By Jane Schatkin Hettrick
When you hear the name Salieri, what comes to your mind? A villain? The jealous rival who killed Mozart? If you have seen F. Murray Abraham play Salieri in the award-winning film Amadeus (1984) or perhaps Ian McKellen in the same role in Peter Shaffer’s play on Broadway (1979), you might hold that negative view. Indeed, theatergoers a century and a half earlier would have heard a similar treatment of the composer in Alexander Pushkin’s drama Mozart and Salieri (1831), which likewise focused on the subject of envy (one of the “seven deadly sins”). Keeping the malign portrayal of Salieri going seventy years later, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov created an opera, also titled Mozart and Salieri (1898), based on Pushkin’s play. All this and more, all false characterization. Could it be, however, that “bad press was better than no press”? In any event, that question no longer obtains as we prepare to mark in 2025 the 200th anniversary of the composer’s death.
My work on Antonio Salieri (1750–1825) began when, through a Fulbright Scholarship, I had the privilege of studying organ in Vienna with the great Austrian organist Anton Heiller at the Hochschule für Musik. Because practice time on the organs at the Hochschule was limited and numerous ambitious young organists from many countries competed for those scarce hours, I had to find ways to spend my extra time beyond enjoying the pastries and atmosphere of the legendary Viennese cafés and Konditoreien. What I decided was to look for some “new” or unknown organ music, which, I believed, must exist in the numerous libraries and archives of the imperial city. I began my search with the musical holdings of the Austrian National Library. The Musiksammlung was then housed in the Albertina, a building overlooking the Staatsoper. It was on the fourth floor, up a staircase of 123 steps; this figure is easy to remember since I climbed those steps many times (only the staff was allowed to use the elevator).
It was well worth the effort, however. In those days the library catalog, which occupied an entire room, consisted of hand-written or typed large paper cards. Over many days, I went systematically through the drawers, starting with “A.” This search reflected what I already knew: namely, that unlike north Germany, Catholic Vienna was not a center of organ music. Nevertheless, in an “S” drawer, I eventually came upon Salieri’s organ concerto—a perfectly preserved autograph manuscript of a work that was not published and thus not available to be performed. In the absence of surviving instrumental parts, we do not know whether it was performed at the time it was written. What was clearly apparent was that this totally unknown piece was a significant composition of musical weight and interest. I could see immediately that it deserved to be added to the repertory of concertos for organ, which was small compared to that of concertos for piano and other instruments. After copying out the score and making performance parts, all by hand, I presented the first modern performance of the concerto in one of my D.M.A. recitals at the University of Michigan. Later, I made a critical edition of the concerto that was published by Doblinger Verlag in Vienna.
In a sense, unearthing this concerto helped rescue its composer from his long consignment to the dusty archives. (Of course, being immortalized in Hollywood filmdom didn’t hurt either.) And in spite of the continuing bad press, there were preexisting positive opinions: a young library assistant called Salieri “der Heilige” (the saint) when delivering his manuscripts to me. Having “discovered” this contemporary of Mozart, little-known at the time, I looked to see what other works by Salieri might still be left unnoticed. This was not difficult; in fact, the quantity was such that it was hard to know where to start. Although my first experience editing Salieri was with his instrumental music (his organ concerto and then his symphonic pieces), I quickly learned that his musical genius was devoted mostly to vocal genres.
Antonio Salieri was a prominent figure in the musical world of late eighteenth-century Vienna. Italian by birth, he emigrated to Vienna as a youth and, assisted by court composer Florian Leopold Gassmann, soon entered the musical life of the court. Through the patronage of Emperor Joseph II, he rose to hold a series of important positions, starting with court chamber composer and director of the Italian opera (1774). In 1788 he was named Hofkapellmeister, the highest musical office of the court, a post that he held for thirty-six years—the longest tenure in the history of the court. As Hofkapellmeister, he oversaw the musical functions of the court during the reigns of three Habsburg monarchs until he retired in 1824. At the zenith of his career in the 1780s and 1790s, he exerted powerful influence over official musical life in Vienna.
It was through his operatic works, numbering more than forty, that Salieri gained international fame. Many of these works enjoyed lasting popularity in theaters throughout Europe; those most frequently performed included both early works (La fiera di Venezia, 1772) and later ones (Palmira, regina di Persia, 1795). In addition to dramatic works, Salieri composed in most of the other vocal genres of the late classical period. Specifically, he wrote a great quantity of secular vocal music: cantatas, choruses, and more than 300 hundred songs, arias, duets, trios, quartets, and canons. With his life-long interest in music education, he was also the author of pedagogical writings, served as the first director of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde (founded in 1817), and was sought after as a teacher. His students carried on his musical legacy in the Hofkapelle well into the nineteenth century.
Salieri’s sacred music comprises more than one hundred compositions, including five masses, one requiem, about forty-five offertories and graduals, two Te Deums, and miscellaneous motets and smaller pieces. Having garnered fame and fortune from the worldly medium of theater, Salieri approached sacred music quite differently. He stated that these works were intended “for God and my emperor”—that is, not for wider circulation and not for posterity. While it could be said that most sacred music of this period was written for God and, if not for the emperor, then for other princes or members of the nobility, Salieri clearly gave thought to the serious purpose of music for the church. Indeed, the style that brought him so much success in his operas does not continue in his sacred music. For example, his masses do not feature the brilliant solos so often featured in his dramatic works; they avoid the vocal virtuosity that contemporary critics so often decried in other sacred works of the time, on the grounds that they turned the church into a stage.
Salieri evidently did not consider it his responsibility as Hofkapellmeister to compose for the weekly Sunday mass. In comparison to other composers of the time (J. G. Albrechtsberger, for example), his output of masses is small. The early Missa stylo a cappella (1767) was a student work, displaying a contrapuntal style of writing that did not figure much in his later sacred music. All his mature liturgical works (with one exception) were written for the Hofkapelle. Most of them used the standard scoring of the Hofkapelle ensemble: SATB choir, two oboes, two bassoons, two or four trumpets, two trombones, timpani, strings, and organ. Since he did not produce masses on a regular basis, we know that each of these works was intended for a special occasion, most often related to war or an elusive peace. According to his first biographer, Ignaz Franz von Mosel, Salieri wrote his first mass (the Mass in D Major, C039) and a Te Deum in 1788 to mark Emperor Joseph’s return from battle. Sometimes dubbed the “Hofkapellmeister Messe,” the D-major mass was not performed because the emperor was ill. Eleven years elapsed before Salieri returned to the mass form, and again the story involves an anticipated cessation of war that did not happen. Indeed, these were times of much fierce fighting, and in 1799 the Hofkapellmeister prepared for an eagerly desired peace with large-scale musical forces: a double-choir plenary mass (including an introit, gradual, and offertory), preceded by a Te Deum (C103). But alas, there was no peace, and thus no occasion that would call for such an elaborate mass when he composed it.
Salieri evidently did not consider it his responsibility as Hofkapellmeister to compose for the weekly Sunday mass. In comparison to other composers of the time (J. G. Albrechtsberger, for example), his output of masses is small. The early Missa stylo a cappella (1767) was a student work, displaying a contrapuntal style of writing that did not figure much in his later sacred music. All his mature liturgical works (with one exception) were written for the Hofkapelle. Most of them used the standard scoring of the Hofkapelle ensemble: SATB choir, two oboes, two bassoons, two or four trumpets, two trombones, timpani, strings, and organ. Since he did not produce masses on a regular basis, we know that each of these works was intended for a special occasion, most often related to war or an elusive peace. According to his first biographer, Ignaz Franz von Mosel, Salieri wrote his first mass (the Mass in D Major, Four years later, however, an event of historic importance took place that required music of appropriate magnitude. On 11 August 1804, Holy Roman Emperor Franz II issued a patent by which he declared himself Emperor Franz I of Austria. By this action, he created a new empire: imperial Austria, which, under the final four Habsburg monarchs, lasted until 1918. With his already-composed and yet-unperformed plenary mass, Salieri was prepared to meet this challenging assignment. But the celebration before him demanded something on an even larger scale than the original, whose “largeness” came came mostly from the increased vocal sound. With its newly intended purpose, the work also needed augmented instrumental forces. This epic solemnization of a unique moment in history was to be celebrated with a grand Dankfest (festival of thanksgiving) on 8 December 1804).
Four years later, however, an event of historic importance took place that required music of appropriate magnitude. On 11 August 1804, Holy Roman Emperor Franz II issued a patent by which he declared himself Emperor Franz I of Austria. By this action, he created a new empire: imperial Austria, which, under the final four Habsburg monarchs, lasted until 1918. With his already-composed and yet-unperformed plenary mass, Salieri was prepared to meet this challenging assignment. But the celebration before him demanded something on an even larger scale than the original, whose “largeness” came came mostly from the increased vocal sound. With its newly intended purpose, the work also needed augmented instrumental forces. This epic solemnization of a unique moment in history was to be celebrated with a grand Dankfest (festival of thanksgiving) on 8 December 1804).Salieri created a work of truly massive proportions. Among the twelve movements of this liturgical Gesamtkunstwerk, those with the fullest scoring entail over forty different instrumental parts in addition to the original double-choir. Salieri’s extraordinary composition presented a major challenge for the editor as well, in particular because he did not create new scores but instead entered a system of letter codes and annotations on the existing score to indicate the added instruments. I recall a distinguished Austrian scholar who knew the field well calling my decision to undertake this edition “Wahnsinn” (madness). For more on Salieri’s plenary mass and the festivities surrounding its performance, see my previous contribution to UnderScore: Grand Music for a New Empire: Salieri’s Plenary Mass of 1804.
As the Kapellmeister was working diligently to assemble the Plenary Mass for the Dankfest, he had on his mind another future event of profound importance to him: his own death. One of the few composers known to have written his own funeral mass, Salieri clearly thought much on eschatological matters. He inscribed his autograph manuscript, which he entrusted to his friend Count Heinrich Wilhelm von Haugwitz in Náměšt’ nad Oslavou (thus not in the Hofkapelle collection), “Piccolo Requiem composto da me, e per me, Ant. Salieri, picciolissima creatura” (C108). This (private) inscription, in which Salieri calls himself the “smallest of creatures,” bespeaks a true Christian humility, reflecting the religious faith the composer sustained throughout his life. While this Requiem setting has much in common with his other masses written for and performed in the Hofkapelle, it stands out in its use of the english horn and the addition of a third trombone. It was performed in Vienna at the Minoritenkirche (Italian National Church) on 22 June 1825, about six weeks after Salieri’s death on 7 May of that year.
As the Kapellmeister was working diligently to assemble the Plenary Mass for the Dankfest, he had on his mind another future event of profound importance to him: his own death. One of the few composers known to have written his own funeral mass, Salieri clearly thought much on eschatological matters. He inscribed his autograph manuscript, which he entrusted to his friend Count Heinrich Wilhelm von Haugwitz in Náměšt’ nad Oslavou (thus not in the Hofkapelle collection), “Piccolo Requiem composto da me, e per me, Ant. Salieri, picciolissima creatura” (The establishment of the new Austrian Empire did not bring about any lasting peace. In fact, Salieri’s last two masses were written in times of unrest. He composed the Mass in D Minor (C065) in 1805, a year when war and its attendant instability plagued Austria and struck Vienna directly when, on 14 November, French troops entered the city and Napoleon took quarters at Schönbrunn Palace. Salieri’s final contribution to the mass genre was the Mass in B-flat, composed in 1809 (DTÖ, 1988). Annotations on the autograph score confirm the circumstances under which the composer was working: “[begun] 5. Aprile 1809+ . . . Finis. Il giorno 11 Mag. 1809!!!!!!” The punctuation following the date of completion points to the ominous events surrounding him. On 11 May, French troops began an assault on Vienna, and two days later Napoleon entered the city for the second time.
The establishment of the new Austrian Empire did not bring about any lasting peace. In fact, Salieri’s last two masses were written in times of unrest. He composed the Mass in D Minor (In 1796 Franz Joseph Haydn wrote a mass which he entitled Missa in tempore belli (Mass in Time of War). In conclusion, then, let me borrow this title from Haydn and say that as wars dragged on over the years, Salieri wrote all his masses and liturgical music “in tempore belli.” Keeping in mind those troubled times, the value of these works lies not only in their musical artistry but also in their relevance to today’s world, where we continue to hope for lasting peace.
Jane Schatkin Hettrick, Professor of Music emeritus at Rider University, began her life in music as an organist and has devoted her scholarly work to the music of Antonio Salieri. She has edited his organ concerto (Doblinger Verlag), his symphonic works (Garland Publishing), and his complete masses: Missa stylo a cappella (Doblinger), Mass in B-Flat major (Denkmäler der Tonkunst in Österreich), and, with A-R Editions, three orchestral masses (D major, D minor, and the Plenary Mass in C with Te Deum) and one Requiem (Requiem with Two Related Motets). She has also edited music by Anna Bon, Franz Schneider, Florian Leopold Gassmann, Pietro Sales, and other eighteenth-century composers.
Jane Schatkin Hettrick, Professor of Music emeritus at Rider University, began her life in music as an organist and has devoted her scholarly work to the music of Antonio Salieri. She has edited his organ concerto (Doblinger Verlag), his symphonic works (Garland Publishing), and his complete masses: Missa stylo a cappella (Doblinger), Mass in B-Flat major (Denkmäler der Tonkunst in Österreich), and, with A-R Editions, three orchestral masses (Dr. Hettrick has written widely on sacred music of both Catholic and Lutheran traditions. Recent writings include “Johann Michael Haydn’s Missa Sancti Hieronymi: An Unusual Eighteenth-Century Tribute to Saint Jerome” (Clotho 3, no. 2; Lubljana University Press, 2021); “Imitate the Lutherans: Catholic Solutions to Liturgical Problems in Late Eighteenth-Century Vienna” (Athens and Wittenberg: Poetry, Philosophy, and Luther’s Legacy; Brill, 2023); and “Desperate Measures: Streicher’s Attempts to Improve Congregational Song in Vienna” (Logia: A Journal of Lutheran Theology, Epiphany 2024). Current projects include more editions of Salieri’s liturgical music, further research in Lutheran archives, and performing historic Lutheran Gospel motets with her church choir.
