When Mozart laid down the
pen after the memorable night's work in which he transferred the
finished overture from his brain to the paper, he had written the
noblest Italian opera ever conceived; and the world knew it not, yet
gradually came to know. But the full fame of "Don Giovanni" was
comparatively brief, and at this time there seems to be a hazy notion
that its splendours have waned before the blaze of Wagner, just as the
symphonies are supposed to have faded in the brilliant light of
Beethoven. At lectures on musical history it is reverently spoken of;
but it is seldom sung, and the public declines to go to hear it; and,
though few persons are so foolish as to admit their sad case, I
suspect that more than a few agree with the sage critic who told us
not long since that Mozart was a little _passe_ now. Is it indeed so?
Well, Mozart lived in the last days of the old world, and the old
world and the thoughts and sentiments of the old world are certainly a
little _passes_ now. But if you examine "Don Giovanni" you must admit
that the Fifth and Ninth symphonies, "Fidelio," "Lohengrin," the
"Ring," "Tristan," and "Parsifal" have done nothing to eclipse its
glories, that while fresh masterpieces have come forth, "Don Giovanni"
remains a masterpiece amongst masterpieces, that in a sense it is a
masterpiece towards which all other masterpieces stand in the relation
of commentaries to text.
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