Born: January 27, 1756, in Salzburg, Austria
Died: December 5, 1791, in Vienna, Austria
Mozart’s final three symphonies are remarkable both for the incredible speed with which they were written and their forward-thinking boldness. Over the course of six weeks in the summer of 1788, he completed symphonies nos. 39, 40 and 41 (known as the Jupiter) while struggling to stay afloat financially and remain popular in the public eye. Current events made matters worse: the Austro-Turkish War had broken out the year before and the Viennese economy was crashing as a result. Concert halls were left empty as wealthy citizens and patrons of the arts were abandoning the city in favor of their country estates, where they could more easily avoid conscription in the military.
During Mozart’s early-adult years, he was employed as a court musician and composer in Salzburg, where he received a low, but steady, salary from the Archduke. He eventually grew frustrated by his job and the artistic restrictions it placed on him. In 1781 he left Salzburg and moved to Vienna, where he began to grow his reputation as an independent composer. His success relied on commissions from the aristocracy, and for seven years he was able to support himself with freelance work, rarely composing without a commission in place. His final three symphonies stand out for the unusual circumstances in which they were written; Mozart, down on his luck with no scheduled concerts or steady income, quickly composed his most experimental and profoundly expressive symphonies.
Before he started working on Symphony No. 39, Mozart had written a letter to his friend. Michael Puchberg, in June asking for financial support. He mentioned a series of upcoming concerts he had planned and urged Puchberg to attend. There is no further evidence that any planned concerts came to pass, but Mozart may have been hoping his new trio of symphonies would premiere at these future events. While he did later hear the Symphony No. 40 in a performance, it is unknown whether Mozart ever heard No. 39 or the Jupiter.
Because these three symphonies were composed so closely to each other, they are often thought of as a trilogy. Together, their scope is broad, with each work encompassing such different moods that they seem to cover the full range of Mozart’s abilities and point to a future full of potential for the evolving composer. The G minor Symphony No. 40, the second of only two Mozart symphonies in a minor key, is dark and intense while the Jupiter is triumphant and explosive. In contrast, the E-flat major Symphony No. 39 is expansive, pastoral and grand. The range of expression found in all three was unusual at the time. Modern day listeners are accustomed to the symphonies of Beethoven, Mahler and others that represent an expression of the composer’s inner soul and personal struggles and triumphs; however, the 18th-century audiences of Vienna expected a symphony to be quite short, light and easily digestible. Modern ears may find it difficult to imagine the effect Mozart’s last symphonies, and the many small ways he departed from the norm, must have had on the audiences of his day.
The Symphony No. 39 is unusual from the very beginning. Mozart opens it with a slow, declamatory introduction that sets the stage for the grandeur and contrasts to come. Resounding chords alternate with delicate scales in the strings, and the continuous dotted rhythms recall the elegant style of baroque overtures. This is Mozart’s only symphony to not use oboes, and their absence allows the clarinets to be in the foreground, adding a rich, mellow tone to the ensemble. After the initial strident chords, the harmonies veer into darker territory with greater dissonance and intensity. The introduction is both grand and uncertain, a clever feat that Mozart pulls off with utter grace. Another unusual twist is the way the Allegro arrives quietly, almost imperceptibly, as the violins sing a simple rising phrase and the horns follow closely behind. The energy soon breaks out with more vigor and virtuosity but the tone remains light and the triple meter lends the movement a dance-like quality.
The second movement begins sweetly with strings alone playing a charming theme in A-flat major. Dotted rhythms are again prominent and a short foray into a minor mode hints at darkness. Two separate outbursts appear, but the clarinets and bassoons enter both times to shift the mood back to the elegance of the opening.
The third-movement minuet is stately and upbeat. A lyrical clarinet solo fills the middle section, accompanied by the animated second clarinet. The flute follows along while the winds and brass offer a jaunty backdrop. The overall spirit is that of a traditional country dance, the Austrian Ländler. The pronounced horn-calls throughout add to the pastoral nature of the music.
The final movement displays Mozart’s wit and love of surprise. The entire movement is based on the opening theme, a jubilant and mischievous melody first heard in the violins. The use of just one theme throughout is highly atypical of Mozart, who usually packed his last movements with multiple musical ideas. The quick theme makes its way around the orchestra as if the instruments were lightly tossing it between one another. Abrupt silences create stunning moments to catch a breath before the rush of activity continues. For a brief spell, the clarinets play a languid chorale-like phrase while snippets of the theme swirl around them. The energy is not contained for long though, and the orchestra joins together in a race to the finish line. The last notes are an iteration of the opening phrase, now played with an exhilarating and ingenious finality. The boldness of omitting the conventional idea of a final emphatic chord is one more example of Mozart’s brilliance and innovative wit.
—Catherine Case