to German thought and speech, to combine it with the little Lieder, full of good-natured buffoonery, which he sometimes employs. But, after all, the first step has been taken. And the nimble, sparkling style of Vinci or Pergolesi will never be forgotten by German music; its animation will stimulate the too solemn gaiety of the great Bach's fellow-countrymen. Not only will it contribute to the formation of the German Singspiel; it will even brighten with its laughter the new symphonic style of Mannheim and Vienna.
I must pass over Telemann's other comic intermezzi: La Capricciosa, Les Amours de Vespetti (the second part of Pimpinone), etc. I will merely mention, in passing, a Don Quixote (1735) which contains some charming airs and well-drawn characters.[1]
But we have here only one aspect of Telemann's theatrical talents; the other mask—that of tragedy—has been unduly overlooked. Even the one historian who has made a study of his operas—Herr Curt Ottzenn—does not sufficiently insist upon this aspect of his art. When his feverish craving to write allows him to reflect upon what he is doing, Telemann is capable of anything, even of being profound. Not only do his operas contain beautiful serious arias, but—which is more unusual—beautiful choruses. One, in the third act of Sokrates (1721)[2], representing the feast of Adonis, is amazingly
- ↑ See on p. 44 of Ottzenn's Supplement, the first aria from Don Quixote, quietly stubborn and infatuated, with flourishes on the violins which celebrate the hero's future exploits. The libretto is Schiebler's; later on he was one of the librettists of J. A. Hiller, the great writer of German Singspiele.
- ↑ Note also the quintets in Sokrates: (the disciples and Aristophanes, or the disciples and the servant Pitho).
