A gift of Mozart

What should appear in my mailbox at the church this morning but the score and parts to Inter natos mulierum, KV 72, by W. A. Mozart!

Truth, I ordered it from the music dealer and expected it to arrive this month. But it is no less beautiful. It is in the Carus Verlag edition, the Stuttgarter Mozart-Ausgaben. There is a conductor's score, a little packet of instrumental parts (violins 1 and 2, violoncello, organ continuo, trombones doubling the vocal ATB parts), and the choral parts.

I am as giddy as a child on Christmas morning.

There is always something about a new piece of music. It is the same feeling as one gets from a new book, except more intense, more filled with promise (well, at least for someone like me).

One of the chief events of my life came when I was in my mid-twenties and a new organist, trying to teach myself to play and having available at that time only two volumes of organ music: the organ method of Sir John Stainer, which I had found in the organ bench at the church, and the Dover edition of a selection of Bach's chorale-based compositions, especially the Orgelbüchlein. The Edwin F. Kalmus company put their already-inexpensive catalogue of keyboard music on a half-price sale at the time that they were selling that part of their business to Belwin-Mills, and I cleared out my checking account to buy all that I could.

In due time there arrived a large box of music: the complete organ works of Buxtehude, Bach, Couperin, Brahms, Mendelssohn, and Franck, plus other assorted volumes as I was able to afford – and a goodly amount of piano music as well, since I was still more a pianist than organist: the piano works of Mozart, Haydn, Schumann, Brahms, and a good number of miniature orchestral scores. To this day these volumes remain at the core of my music library, and I have had to purchase replacement copies for some of them after they fell apart from use.

That night, I went to the church and played from these volumes until the wee hours. I was interrupted by the police; someone had heard organ music from outside and called them. They called the pastor, who had no idea anyone would be crazy enough to stay up all night playing organ music, and they came in, expecting an intruder. My long-haired scruffy appearance in those days probably did not help matters, but once I convinced them I was the legitimate organist of the church, they put their guns away and left with a gruff “Next time you do this, call us.”

I am older now; I will not stay up all night with Mozart, though part of me wishes that I still had the zeal that I did in those days, preferring Music to food or sleep. Perhaps I have learned that Music cannot go on for long without both of these mundane essentials.

KV 72 is intended for the Feast of St. John Baptist, which falls in midsummer. Mozart probably wrote it in 1771 when he was fifteen, and by one anecdote tossed it off one night, perhaps when he too preferred Music to food or sleep [I suspect that he kept that preference to his dying day.] We will hopefully sing it on the First Sunday after the Epiphany, January 13, 2013, wherein the Gospel is St. Luke's account of the ministry of St. John Baptist and his baptism of Our Lord; the latter part of the text for the piece justifies the performance of the piece on that day, in my view. I especially love the juxtaposition of “Alleluia” with “Behold the Lamb of God” – not a connection one would immediately make, but perfect for the Sunday after the Epiphany. We will seek to engage the instrumentalists for the piece, although it will be a strain on our budget – but then again, Music must take precedence at times. Especially Mozart.

Among all those born of women, there has been none greater than John the Baptist, who has prepared the way for the Lord in the wilderness.

Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.
Alleluia.