Quantz, Mozart and the magic of writing for the flute
The concerto for solo instrument and orchestra, which flourished in the Baroque and reached its peak in Romanticism, is one of the most popular classical forms, which has continued to this day. Based on the opposition between the orchestral tutti and a soloist (or more), it fed on the 18th century taste for contrasts, and during the following century it became an authentic showcase for the displays of virtuosity that so pleased the public. And, if at the beginning of the Baroque moving the emotions was the main objective of any performer, the concerto, typically in three movements, fast-slow-fast, satisfied at the same time the desire for lyricism and for technically challenging passages. Although it is not the preferred solo instrument of composers in general, the flute has deserved numerous works of this type. For this article, we chose to compare a piece by Quantz with one by Mozart: both central movements from concertos in the same key, G major.
Quantz was a Baroque composer who exerted a great influence on his peers. His relationship with King Frederick the Great of Prussia, won through the composer's merits, brought him the necessary comfort to write more than 200 sonatas and 300 concertos, for one or two flutes.
In his youth, Quantz specialized in the study and construction of the flute with the famous French flutist Pierre Buffardin. In 1728 he became a flutist at the Dresden chapel, where, during a concert, he met the then Prince Frederick of Prussia, a flute enthusiast, who took him as his private teacher of the instrument. With Frederick's accession to the throne, Quantz was appointed court composer, a position he held until his death.
His treatise, “Essay on a method for playing the transverse flute”, is a fundamental work not only for understanding the study habits and performance practices of the period, but also contains very useful and current advice even for musicians of our own time. His insightful observations are relevant and of interest to any musician, regardless of his instrument, who is curious about the 18th century repertoire, since in its pages several stylistic themes are addressed, such as ornamentation and articulation suggestions, in fluent texts containing numerous musical examples.
Focused on writing for the king, Quantz needed to balance the technical limitations of the score with those of his student, without losing the elegance and quality of writing that was expected from a composer of his stature. If today we already find it difficult to contradict our bosses, imagine the delicate work of composing for the boss of bosses, The Great. Quantz managed to admirably reconcile the task of adapting the music to the king and the king to the music, so much so that his work has survived with gallantry to this day.
In the concert that we are addressing here, especially in the second movement, we can witness beautiful pages of music that combine grace, nobility and technical demand. A possible indication that this concerto was composed for Frederic is the care taken to keep the strings under control, especially in this slow movement. Usually fierce opponents of the almost defenseless flutes of the time, the string parts of the slow movement are always written in regions lower than the soloist's, causing the flute's sound to always hover above the accompaniment.
In this Arioso e mesto, a title that evokes lyricism and melancholy, the instrumentation chosen to accompany the flute is composed of two violins, viola and basso continuo. In contrast to the basic concerto key, and as was very common at the time, the central movement is in the key of G minor.
The first violin starts the movement in a painful minor sixth leap, reaching the B-flat of the first octave, a dark-colored note – and, in the traverso, opaque and whispering – announcing that the warm colors of the preceding movement will not return anytime soon. Despite the sumptuous entrance, the first violins are frustrated by the lack of their own melody throughout the movement, which reserves only occasional comments for the soloist. The flute entry re-exposes the opening theme and now, with the “right” instrument, we can understand the choice of tonality, which, according to Quantz himself, in his treatise, must be carried out ruefully. In contrast to the impetuous repetitions of quarter notes of the first movement, which evoke the strength of battle trumpets, here we are faced with short, dotted notes, almost didactic marks of the representation of nobility in music, preceding long and dramatic appoggiaturas and trills. Throughout the movement, the discreet, respectful and not very imitative accompaniment already points towards the decades to come, in which the appreciation for polyphony was increasingly weakening.
As we approach the Mozart concerto, all the respect, pomp, and deference observed in the relationship between Quantz and his employer dissolve into fraud, delay, and swindle.
Mozart and his troubled relationship with the flute have been the subject of several flutist’s conventions over time. How is it possible for a composer who wrote such brilliant moments for the instrument to claim that he couldn't even stand it? Perhaps the answer to this lies in 1778, the date of the composition of his first two concertos and of the flute quartets, written for Ferdinand De Jean, a wealthy Dutch merchant, whom Mozart had met in Mannheim.
In December 1777, Mozart wrote to his father that he had accepted a commission from De Jean to write "three short and simple concertos and some quartets for flute". It is very likely that the promise of a generous payment helped the Viennese composer forget any possible quarrel with the instrument, since, still in correspondence with his father, he had promised to finish the work in just two months. But not even the generous amount could overcome the force of the composer's procrastination, who did not deliver all the quartets and one of the two flute concertos he "composed". The quotation marks here are justified: the concerto in D was actually a brazen transposition of his concerto in C major for oboe, which he had written not long before, and which became a box office success.
In exchanges of letters with his father, in an attempt to develop lame excuses for his foolishness, he included the famous comment that has bothered flutists ever since: “...you know I am impotent whenever I am forced to write for an instrument I cannot stand". Despite the maladroitness, Concerto no. 1 in G major, K. 313, that was in fact written for De Jean, was enthusiastically received by him and is still considered a gem of the flute repertoire.
The concerto consists of a standard orchestra of strings, oboes and horns – flutes replace the oboes in the central movement. In G major, this Adagio ma non troppo, preceded by the Allegro maestoso, obliterates any sign of the composer's social inability and makes us believe that Mozart was born in a golden cradle, surrounded by servants and the most sophisticated fabrics of his time.
A few decades ahead of Quantz, Mozart's orchestra already has woodwinds accompanying the solo flute. In the first bar, the string orchestra plus the horns announces a dominant chord in unison so that the ripieno flutes can expose the melody that will be the main theme of the movement. This theme is extremely generous with the instrument. In the middle region, the flutes of the time could shine with comfort – probably De Jean played some instrument with 5 or 8 keys, a more complex system than that of Baroque flutes with a single key.
After a brief introduction, the soloist's entrance is announced by the same chord in unison as the ouverture, but now, the other winds fall silent, so that only the concertino shines over the orchestra. As in Quantz, the accompaniment is discreet, all the strings whisper with sordine and the cello line resembles a basso continuo line, as if we were briefly transported to the Baroque, with its jumps directing the harmony.
The main melodic line reveals its historical moment through the unpretentious use of very high notes and chromaticism, here without the burden of pain so common to the Baroque, but rather evoking flexible sensuality. If in Quantz the minor tonality and the lamentabile writing itself led us to a plaintive and melancholy state of mind, in Mozart the slow movement does not fail to contain a dose of exhibitionism, by presenting a theme of extreme lyricism and beauty, without having to resort to the element of supplication or pain. There is a certain pride here in mastering the instrument so well as to make it sing. Even chromaticism, still somewhat exotic even for Mozart, is used to evoke sensuality rather than suffering.
Three decades separate the composition of these two concertos. The Mozart concerto was written just five years after Quantz's death. Thus, it would not be expected that these concerts would present abyssal differences between them. Contributing to their stylistic proximity is the fact that Quantz was already a composer who flirted with the gallant style, and that Mozart was still a composer fully rooted in the 18th century.
But the differences, however subtle, already point to a changing world. Mozart's concerto follows the trend of the time, for more extensive works, being at least 50% longer than Quantz's. And it has a denser and more colorful orchestration, exploring the highest region of the flute more often. But the main difference in character is precisely the contrast between the more introspective spirit of Quantz and the more extroverted spirit of Mozart, which already signals to the difference in the artist's position in relation to society: from a faithful servant to a free-lancer to be admired and flattered by society.
