MYSTERY MASS IN C MAJOR (A1.20)
INTRODUCTION
Little is known about the origin of this mass. Köchel listings in my books and online contain some references to Anhang (“Appendix”) C, in which category both this mass and the “Salve Regina” C 3.01, which is identical to its “Benedictus”, are found. The C category is for works once attributed to Mozart, but now thought by scholars to be by someone else.
Even the authoritative website Neue Mozart Ausgabe is incomplete. It finds no data for “C 1.20” or “C 3.01”. NMA was published online in 2006, and the website specifies, “No additional changes have been made to the images; up-dates of the musical texts, source descriptions or evaluations of sources are reserved to the DME (Digital Mozart Edition)”, which is still a work in progress.
Wikipedia’s “talk” section, dated 2013, mentions a possible upcoming listing of all Anhang C works, but there is nothing yet in 2019.
Most of what I have found comes from the liner notes to the two recordings which have been made (Classico CLASSCD 396 and NAXOS 8.570926), which say that in 1802 composer Simone Mayr (1763-1845) copied a complete score in Bergamo, Italy (or perhaps in Salzburg, where he might have met Constanze), on which he wrote “Mozart”. Several other scores have turned up around Europe: Gottweig Abbey near Krems, Austria, attributed to František Xaver Brixi (1732-1771); and St. Peter Abbey in Salzburg, attributed to Leopold Mozart. The first modern performing edition was prepared by John Irving for the Classico recording.
I did not mention Brixi in “Cantata Mass Trends”, as he worked from 1759 until his death as choirmaster at St. Vitus’s Cathedral in Prague, which Mozart did not visit as a child. Mozart could certainly have known his scores, as Brixi wrote vast amounts of church music, including 105 masses, but he is not mentioned at all in my biographies of Mozart nor in any of Mozart’s letters. Perhaps as a consequence, he gets only a brief blurb in Grove’s Dictionary, but there he is mentioned as exhibiting “…a distinctive style which in some cases foreshadows that of Mozart”.
Three of his masses are recorded (Supraphon 11 0092-2231 and Antiphona AA 0019-2231), and he could be a contender for the “Mystery Mass”. Two cantata masses, a “Missa Integra” in D minor and a “Missa Integra” in D major, date probably from the early 1760s, and a short “Missa Pastoralis” in D major dates from about 1770, when he had given up the cantata form.
His sound is reverent, accessible, gentle, and often folklike. There is little solo part writing beyond pairs of voices singing in thirds and sixths. There is a very sparing use of trumpets, and no oboes, bassoons, or horns. But string writing is smooth and varied and Type II choral music is excellent. There is not a boring section or a phrase out of place. “Benedictus” and “Agnus Dei” in the D minor “Integra”, the D major “Integra”, and the “Pastoralis” are folklike, gentle solo songs with melismas but without an “operatic” sound. Brixi is rarely playful, except with “Dona Nobis Pacem” in the D minor “Integra”, which I can see being appreciated by Mozart for its jolly, syncopated rhythm.
In short, I think Brixi is too good a composer to have written the “Mystery Mass”. I’d like to listen to his other 102.
Other attributions have been to Czech composer Cajetan Vogel (1747-1794) and to German composer Abbé Georg Vogler. Vogel was choirmaster of St. Michael’s Church in Prague, wrote both sacred and secular music, and was celebrated in his day, though nothing of his is recorded and the poor sod does not even rate a mention in Grove’s.
And as far as Vogler is concerned, Mozart wrote his father in 1777 about attending a new mass of his in Dresden:
“I have never heard anything like this in my life. Sometimes it doesn’t even sound right. He attacks the music in such a way that one must fear he wants to drag you in by your hair; not that he makes it all worthwhile in some interesting way, no, it’s all so Clumsy. I don’t even want to talk about the execution of his ideas. I say only this much: it’s not possible that a mass by Vogler could ever please a Compositeur who is worthy of the name”.
I’m ruling out Vogler.
My money is on Leopold, and, if so, this mass must be an influence on Wolfgang’s development, of which there is some evidence in the music. It is less sophisticated and I would think earlier than Leopold’s “Missa Solemnis”, which dates from 1764 at the latest. Whoever wrote the “Benedictus qui venit” of this mass also wrote the identical C 3.01 “Salve Regina”. There are structural elements using repeating theme fragments in the Credo and Benedictus that appear in some of Wolfgang’s masses. Finally, the 1772 “Regina Caeli” K 127, certified to be Wolfgang’s, lifts a very worthy cadence directly from “In gloria Dei Patris” of this mass (“Thanks, Dad”).
And, despite my dismissal of Brixi as “too good” to be its composer, this mass is not bad at all, just flawed, which Brixi’s are not. It has many more wonderful moments than pedestrian, and what I find most annoying are the overlong orchestral interludes that kill the flow of the text in places. And that is also a feature of the otherwise marvelous Zelenka, suggesting again that Salzburg had access to his and Heinichen’s work (see “Cantata Mass Trends”, “New Salzburg”).
The “Mystery Mass” is scored for 2 oboes, 2 horns (which Leopold introduced to Salzburg, by the way), 2 trumpets, timpani, strings, and organ continuo. There is only one Type II movement.
My snippets are from the Classico recording, which I prefer for its exuberant performance, although the Naxos has a better soprano.
KYRIE
This is set as a single movement for chorus and soloists in three sections, unlike the usual practice of the Dresden denizens of setting the words as three freestanding movements. I have no complaints about orchestral bridges here, as they are handled well, setting off portions of text and vocal groupings without interfering with flow.
A reverent, accessible mood is set by a lengthy orchestral introduction, out of which the chorus emerge quietly and effectively as if they are just another set of instruments. The volume picks up for a joyous, hymnlike phrase, leading to a duet for solo soprano and alto. The chorus expand the hymn to an exultant finish, followed immediately by an orchestral bridge to “Christe eleison”, the second section, itself in three parts.
The outer parts of “Christe eleison” feature duets between solo soprano and alto, then tenor and bass, followed by solo quartet. In the middle part, the chorus and the orchestra have a quiet conversation together, followed immediately by the duet and quartet music again, this time in a minor key. The vocal writing for the four soloists is lovely.
A brief bridge on the orchestra’s initial theme leads seamlessly into the third section, a reprise of “Kyrie eleison”, except the solo turn this time is alto and bass.
GLORIA
GLORIA IN EXCELSIS
This begins as a broad, folklike chorus in three parts. An extensive orchestral interlude after the first two statements kills the flow. I quote it in its interminable entirety to contrast it with its later use.
An orchestral interlude is just long enough to be a bridge to the new music of “Et in terra pax“, which is a chantlike unison chorus of just a couple of notes over changing chords.
A very short bridge is all it takes to pick up the pace for “Laudamus te”, not a separate section here, which uses the same music as “Gloria in excelsis”, complete with the extensive interlude. Here, however, the interlude is practically unnoticeable, having been beautifully woven together with bits of text. Once the composer saw how that worked, he should have tried the same thing in “Gloria in excelsis”, and, if it didn’t work, he should have cut it down or out. The joyous music comes to a full stop.
GRATIAS AGIMUS
This is an ABA song for solo alto. It is prayerful, gentle, folklike, completely an heir to the unaffected sound apparently invented by Heinichen in his “Mass No. 12” (See “Cantata Mass Trends”, “Dresden”). It has plenty of melismatic runs congruent to the dreamy mood. Its appearance here is another clue that Leopold Mozart is the composer of this mass, as the next chronological example of an ingenuous song in a mass that I have encountered is in the next chapter, his “Missa Solemnis”.
The B part moves quietly to the words “Domine Deus”, not a separate movement here.
The repeat of the A part continues with the rest of that text, beginning with the second iteration of “Domine Deus”. For some reason, the singer in the Classico recording sings only the words “Domine Patris” instead of the full “Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris”, which the singer in the Naxos does. I would guess that this has something to do with the enormous task of editing the unknown accuracy of Mayr’s copy for performance and that the Naxos people have prepared their own edition.
Similarly, the composer has apparently left the traditional fermata symbol indicating that the singer is to improvise a cadenza, as the two recordings have very different ones. In both cases I find the mere presence of any cadenza to be jarring and out of keeping with the intimate sound of the rest of this song.
QUI TOLLIS
This is a slow, plaintive, hymnlike section for soprano and orchestra. It would be quite satisfying were it not for two extended orchestral interludes of over 30 seconds each. They not only break the flow, they make us forget what movement we’re listening to. They just do not belong musically.
The soprano sings “Qui tollis”, the chorus echo it, the chorus sing “Miserere“, followed by the first napping opportunity.
But the next bit is worth waking up for, a lovely touch that has the soprano emerging from the chorus’s “Qui tollis” with her “Suscipe”, which has a high A flat.
The chorus sing “Qui sedes” and “Miserere” similar to their opening series, followed by the second 30 seconds of snooze.
The chorus finish with one more “Qui sedes” and “Miserere”.
QUONIAM
Who but a Mozart could have written this infectious folk song for soprano and chorus into a mass and gotten away with it? With the playful organ obbligato, the swaying, toe-tapping beat sounds like a clog dance in the aisles. The soprano is in high spirits and gets to sing a high A and a high B. The chorus joins in the fun and the piece ends with several stomps of the men’s work boots. Analysis not necessary; all we have to do is listen.
CUM SANCTO SPIRITU
A brief chorus on “Cum Sancto Spiritu” acts as an introduction and ends with an expectant pause.
IN GLORIA DEI PATRIS
With that buildup to the only Type II music in the mass, we would expect it to be a vigorous choral showpiece. The tune of the subject is catchy enough, but the voice entries are so regular, square, and predictable, it sounds like the same four measures over and over and over. The skimpy countersubject and everpresent orchestral trill dull what is otherwise a joyous, lilting sound.
And if that weren’t enough, there are two more long annoying orchestra interludes. It’s clear now that this is an intentional pattern, with two in “Gloria in excelsis”, two in “Qui tollis”, and two here. Whatever the intent, the result is intrusive padding. Is it possible the long interludes were not a part of the original lost score, but were added to “improve” it as Mayr was copying it?
Further compounding this mystery is that the editors of the Naxos recording have drastically shortened some interludes. Listen to the same musical snippet as the one immediately above in the Naxos version, 5 seconds instead of 25. Looking back, I now notice that the same is true of one of the interludes in “Qui tollis” as well, 10 seconds instead of 35. That vastly improves the flow, but can an editor just cut out stuff without saying?
The end features soaring sopranos (high A) followed by the cadence which Wolfgang lifted for his “Regina caeli, laetare”, K127, in 1772.
CREDO
The three main sections, separated by full stops, begin at “Credo in Unum Deum”, “Et incarnatus est”, and “Et resurrexit”. Each section is further subdivided by one or more brief orchestral bridges.
The sound of the chorus is folklike, joyous, unrestrained. The composer is on fire here, presenting in the first rhapsodic 45 seconds every theme that will appear in the two outer sections, often fragmented, sometimes disguised, with filler only in the bridges. That encompasses nearly five minutes of music. I can’t think of a prior example in a mass, but Wolfgang will soon start doing a lot of this, starting with his “K140”.
The only thing similar to this cascade of repeating themes in a mass that I know of is in Zelenka’s “Missa Dei Filii”, where in nearly 16 minutes of total music between the “Gloria in excelsis” and “Cum Sancto Spiritu” sections, he creates a rollicking perpetual motion sound out of just a few themes presented over and over (See “Cantata Mass Trends”, “Dresden”). But that tour de force is in a category all its own and I don’t think it can be mapped.
The ear can’t hear the themes in “Credo in Unum Deum” fast enough, but the snippets will slow them down for comparison.
CREDO IN UNUM DEUM
Theme1 appears first in its entirety. The composer also exploits its three parts separately: Theme 1a, Theme 1b, and Theme 1c, in which the sopranos warm up with a high A. Theme 2 is identifiable by the basses singing in broken thirds. Theme 3 features the basses singing descending scale notes. Theme 4 has two notes up and two notes down.
After a bridge to “Genitum non factum”, it sounds as if there’s a new theme, but it’s just Theme 1b alone, followed by Theme 2. At “Descendit”, there is a cadence built on the a fragment of Theme 4.
ET INCARNATUS EST
This begins as a tender song for tenor solo. A bridge leads to three cries of “Crucifixus” by the chorus, separated by two bridges. The first is quiet and consonant with the mood; the second sounds like a cartoon mouse tiptoeing to get the cheese before the cat wakes up. It’s the only off moment in the entire movement, but it’s jarring. The tenor, bass, and alto have brief solos, and the theme is picked up by the chorus, who finish the section quietly.
ET RESURREXIT
“Et resurrexit” is a true reprise of Themes 1-4 in their entirety.
A bridge leads to “Et in Spiritum Sanctum”. This really sounds like a new theme, but it’s a minor version of Theme 1a, which is also inverted. It is followed by Theme 1c and then Theme 1b. In Theme 1c, the sopranos have not only a high A but a high C sharp! They do it well in the Classico recording, but take it an octave lower in the Naxos. These are followed by Theme 2.
Another bridge leads to “Et Unam Sanctam Catholicam”, which uses a fragment of Theme 1c followed by Theme 2 and Theme 3. “Et vitam venturi” finishes the movement without a pause, using the two-note fragments of Theme 4 plus a final cadence.
SANCTUS
“Sanctus” is in five sections, divided not so much by musical theme or portions of text as by sound: loud, soft, loud, soft, loud. Orchestral interludes here function well as “conversations” with the soft choral sections.
The first loud section begins with three cries of “Sanctus”.
The first soft section begins with the orchestra and ends with “Deus Sabbaoth”.
The second loud section repeats the words “Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabbaoth”.
The second soft section intones “Deus Sabbaoth” two more times with the orchestra in between.
The third loud section begins with the rest of the text. Two cries by the chorus of “Pleni sunt caeli et terra” are separated by an orchestral interlude which really doesn’t need to be there, but it is at least short. The movement concludes with a seamlessly integrated “Hosanna” lasting only a few seconds, but long enough for the sopranos to sing a high A.
BENEDICTUS
“Benedictus qui venit” is a gentle, swaying, folklike song for solo quartet with organ obbligato. The part writing for the soloists is elegant and balanced.
I quote the lengthy introduction in its entirety for two reasons: one, it’s wonderful to listen to, and two, we’ll need parts of it for later in what turns out to be another ingenious construction.
The soloists begin with the same theme that begins the introduction. This will be their Theme1. Whereas at this point the introduction brings in the organ’s merry noodling, the soloists continue with their own material, Theme2 followed by Theme3, in which the soprano sings a high A and a high B flat.
Next there is an orchestral bridge with three parts, which I’ll call Fragment a, Fragment b, and Fragment c; b and c are from the introduction, a is on its own (if you can find it there anywhere, be my guest).
The soloists sing Theme1 as before, followed by Theme2 and Theme3 both in a minor key.
Theme1 returns, but this time is followed, not by Theme2, but by Fragment b from the bridge, which sounds as if it’s been there the whole time, and then by Theme3.
A coda brings things to a close with the soloists singing a cadence from Theme3 against Fragment b in the orchestra and organ. The organ plays Fragment a and the orchestra and organ finish with Fragment c, which also concludes both the introduction and the bridge, for a nice summing up.
HOSANNA
The obligatory return of “Hosanna in excelsis“, so seamlessly integrated with the Sanctus, is here a jarring afterthought. For one thing, it’s in a different key from “Benedictus”, and for another, its character is “festive” rather than “folklike”. It has had to be expanded here to stand on its own: the version embedded in the Sanctus is about 5 seconds; this one runs 25 seconds.
This invites another speculation: since “Benedictus” is an exact copy (except for the words) of the composer’s own “Salve Regina”, did he just carelessly place a “da capo” sign after it, meaning “go back and play the first ‘Hosanna’ again”, as was common practice, and move on? And if so, might it have been Mayr who noticed that that wouldn’t work and padded it out to its much more acceptable length to follow “Benedictus”? Whoever took the trouble to write the second “Hosanna” could just as easily have started in F major, the key of “Benedictus”, from which the transition would be simple (if you’re a composer) to end in the original key of C major. That would at least have been less intrusive.
AGNUS DEI
The “Agnus Dei” section seems to want to be a solemn chorale, but it is nearly devoid of melodic, harmonic, or rhythmic interest. More excellent part writing is here wasted on the soloists, who sing together in blocks, without highlighting any voices individually or in combination.
The soloists sing the first “Agnus Dei” in A minor; the first “Miserere” starts in A minor and modulates to C major. An orchestral interlude follows. The second “Agnus Dei” starts in C major and modulates back to A minor. The second “Miserere” is in A minor, as is the transitional third “Agnus Dei”.
There is no tune to speak of. The same block chords plod back and forth. The rhythm is monotonous, almost without countermotion. Ironically, the highlight of musical interest is the orchestral interlude between the first “Miserere” and the second “Agnus Dei”. It is almost as if this is a rough draft, meant to be fleshed out later with solo and duet moments, a little imitation, perhaps a melody soaring over the chorale. Maybe the composer had a tight deadline, repurposed his “Salve Regina” for “Benedictus”, and made a performable draft of “Agnus Dei”, intending to get back to it at a later date.
DONA NOBIS PACEM
This final section for chorus also shows signs of haste. It is a joyful recessional march in a basic ABAB coda structure with three main themes. Theme1 and Theme 2 are in the A parts, Theme3 and Theme2 are in the B parts.
Three flaccid orchestral interludes destroy the forward movement of the festive sound. One additional brief interlude forms a portion of a vigorous, effective bridge from the first B part to the second A part.
The only prominent orchestral motif accompanying the singers is two notes alternating with each other, but it is relentless and silly-sounding, rapidly wearing out its welcome. It appears four times in each A part, four times in the first B part, two times in the second B part, and over and over in the last of the three annoying interludes.
The first A part presents Theme1, Theme2, and the silly orchestral motif, transitioning to the first orchestral interlude, which stops the forward motion cold.
The first B part introduces the soaring Theme3 and more of Theme2, transitioning to a bridge which continues the momentum.
The second A part is similar to the first, followed by a similar motion-stopping second orchestral interlude.
The second B part ends in an awkward cadence, followed by the third orchestral interlude. This one is accompanied by quiet choral interjections of “Dona”, “nobis”, and “pacem” one word at a time. This would serve as an effective calm buildup to the final exuberant outburst that follows, except for the repeated use of the silly orchestral motif, here a “noodly” two octaves above its other appearances. Remember that “mouse” in the “Et incarnatus est” who was surreptitiously trying to get the cheese? He’s back for more.
The coda , a brief statement of Theme1, does not disappoint, providing a bright, satisfying finish, primarily because the silly motif does not appear at all.
The music sounds unfinished to me—or at least unpolished. The Naxos recording takes it faster (96 beats per minute compared to 72), comes up with trumpets I don’t hear in the Classico, and has a different sequence of words in the third interlude.* Naxos also gives the soloists the choral material in both statements of Theme3, the bridge following the first B part, and the quiet interjections in the third interlude. This makes for a more varied sound, but it doesn’t help the deficiencies in overall structure.
Once more, I am curious as to what might be the state of the Mayr copy that accounts for these two different approaches, especially the apparent liberties taken by the Naxos editors.
*”Dona nobis pacem pacem dona pacem pacem pacem”—Classico
“Dona nobis nobis pacem dona nobis pacem pacem”—Naxos
–04/13/2019
