Mozart: Symphony No.41 in C major, K.551 “Jupiter” (1788)

Allegro vivace
Andante Cantabile
Menuetto:- Allegretto
Molto Allegro

Why is it that Mozart’s last three symphonies have taken such a grip on our imagination? Over the years it might well be the central one in G minor which has made the most impact – and H.C. Robbins Landon points out that minor keys figure more prominently from 1783 to 1788 than was otherwise the norm in his output, relating this to a condition described by the physician Dr. Peter J. Davies as “chronic mood disturbance….hypomanic depression…..cyclothymic disorder”. By the summer of 1788 all this must have been exacerbated by bereavement (notably his father Leopold the previous May), recurring illness, and chronic debt: no fewer than 21 letters to fellow freemason Michael Puchberg bear poignant witness to his desperation – but also to a certain self regard…. And so we have the background to these three symphonies (Nos.39 – 41): his last, it is true – but not consciously so, of course, given that he was still an energetic young man of 32! Sketchy documentation, together with various personal circumstances outlined above, have contributed to a long held Romantic notion that these symphonies were neither commissioned nor performed – that he was writing them for himself. Mozart was far too much a businessman – and far too busy! – for such indulgence. We know from his letters that he planned Akademie (subscription concerts) at the new Casino in Vienna’s Spiegelgasse, and subsequently on a trip via Pressburg (Bratislava) to Dresden and Berlin/Potsdam, and it is unthinkable that the new symphonies were not featured – even if there is scant evidence one way or the other.

Against such a background, should we be surprised that the “Jupiter” (not the composer’s title) turns out to be one of the grandest, boldest, and most complex of all his orchestral works? Returning to the G minor symphony, and its key with such potent associations for this composer, we might then look to an even more extensive list of significant works in the key of C, where we would find his most large scale piano concerto (No.21, K.503), a previous “grand” symphony (the “Linz”, No.36), possibly his finest string quartet (the “Dissonance”, K.465), plus one of the longest of all his instrumental works, the String Quintet K.515 – fully 400 bars more than in any of the other quintets, and also paired with a hardly less impassioned G minor companion. The C major symphony appeared a mere sixteen days after the G minor, which in turn was finished just one month after No.39! An overall view of the actual score – characteristically neat, tidy, and economical – gives little indication of its content. It is only when we follow it to the letter that something quite extraordinary is truly revealed – not least in its mind-blowing finale: this extraordinary fusion of fugato with sonata form was not without precedent – notably in the last movement of the G major quartet (K.387), whose main subject similarly begins with four semibreves. If that finale served retrospectively as a practice for this one, then we should be grateful that it enabled a piece of such technical brilliance to be created – with the additional virtue of having shed that trace of self conscious cleverness which some find in the quartet; indeed, the climactic coda – combining as it does all five main motifs of the movement at once, in an apotheosis of scarcely believable genius – sweeps us inexorably to its glorious conclusion of trumpet fanfares, such that we are almost oblivious of what is actually going on: that “Art which conceals Art” perhaps the Jupiter’s ultimate achievement.

© Alan George
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