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Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Biography |  |
The early December dusk was closing in over the quaint old city of
Salzburg. Up on the heights above the town the battlements of the
great castle caught a reflection of the last gleams of light in the
sky. But the narrow streets below were quite in shadow.
In one of the substantial looking houses on a principal thoroughfare,
called the Getreide Gasse, lights gleamed from windows on the third
floor. Within, all was arranged as if for some special occasion.
The larger room, with its three windows looking on the street, was
immaculate in its neatness. The brass candlesticks shone like gold,
the mahogany table was polished like a mirror, the simple furniture
likewise. For today was Father Mozart's birthday and the little
household was to celebrate the event.
Mother Mozart had been busy all day putting everything in order
while Nannerl, the seven year old daughter, had been helping. Little
Wolfgang, now three years old, in his childish eagerness to be as busy
as the others, had only hindered, and had to be reprimanded once in a
while. One could never be vexed with the little elf, even if he turned
somersaults in new clean clothes, or made chalk figures all over the
living-room chairs. He never meant to do any harm, and was always so
tenderhearted and lovable, it was hard to scold him.
And this was the Father's birthday, about the most important of all
the family celebrations. Already the roast on the spit was nearing
perfection, while in the oven a fine cake was browning.
When all was ready and Leopold Mozart had received the good wishes
of the little household, baby Wolfgang was mounted on a footstool to
recite a poem, in honor of the occasion. When he had finished it he
stood quietly a moment then reaching out his tiny arms, clasped them
tightly about his father's neck, and said:
"Dear papa, I love you very, very much; after God, next comes my
papa."
Leopold Mozart was a musician and held the post of Vice-Capellmeister.
Music was honored in this simple home, and when two of the Court
musicians, friends of Father Mozart, came in to join the festivities
on this birthday night, a toast was drunk to the honor of Musica ,
the divine goddess of tones.
"I wonder if even a little of my own musical knowledge and love for
the art will overflow upon the two dear children," remarked Father
Mozart, gazing down tenderly on the little ones.
"Why not," answered the mother; "you long ago promised to begin
lessons with Nannerl; can she not start this very night?"
"Yes, indeed, Papachen, may I not learn to play the piano? I promise
to work very hard."
"Very well," answered the father; "you shall see I am grateful for all
the love you have showed me tonight, and I will begin to teach Nannerl
at once."
"I want to learn music too," broke in little Wolfgang, looking at his
father with beaming eyes.
Every one laughed at this, while the father said baby Wolfgang would
have to grow some inches before he could reach the keys.
The lesson began, and the little girl showed both quickness and
patience to grasp the ideas. No one at first noticed the tiny child
who planted himself at his sister's elbow, the light of the candles
falling on his delicate, sensitive features and bright brown hair. His
glance never left Nannerl's fingers as they felt hesitatingly
among the white and black keys, while his ear easily understood the
intervals she tried to play.
When the little girl left the piano, or the harpsichord, as it was
called in those days, Wolfgang slipped into her place and began to
repeat with his tiny fingers what his father had taught her. He sought
the different intervals, and when at last he found them, his little
face beamed with joy. In a short time he was able to play all the
simple exercises that had been given his sister.
The parents listened to their wonder-child with ever increasing
astonishment, mingled with tears of emotion. It was plain to be seen
that Wolfgang must have lessons as well as Nannerl. And what joy it
would be to teach them both.
It was a happy household that retired that night. Nannerl was happy
because she at last had the chance to take piano lessons. Wolfgang,
little "Starbeam," dreamed of the wonderful Goddess of Music, who
carried him away to fairyland which was filled with beautiful music.
The parents were filled with joy that heaven had granted them such
blessings in their children.
The musical progress of the children was quite remarkable. Marianne,
which was Nannerl's real name, soon began to play very well indeed,
while little Wolfgang hardly had to be told anything in music, for
he seemed to know it already. The father would write Minuets for the
little girl to study; her tiny brother would learn them in half an
hour. Soon Wolfgang was able to compose his own Minuets. Several have
come down to us which he wrote when he was five years old; and they
are quite perfect in form and style.
One day Father Mozart brought home Schachtner, the Court trumpeter, to
dinner. Coming suddenly into the living-room, they found the tiny elf
busily writing at his father's desk.
"Whatever are you doing, Wolferl?" cried his father, gazing at the ink
stained fingers of his little son and then at the paper covered with
blots.
"Oh, Papa, a piano sonata, but it isn't finished yet."
"Never mind that," said Leopold Mozart, "let us see it, it must be
something very fine." Taking up the paper the father and his friend
looked at it curiously. The sheets were bedaubed with ink stains that
almost concealed the notes. For the child had thrust his pen each time
to the bottom of the ink well, so that frequent blots on the paper
were the result. These did not trouble him in the least, for he
merely rubbed his hand over the offending blot and proceeded with his
writing.
At first the two friends laughed heartily to see how the little
composer had written the notes over smudges, but soon the father's
eyes filled with happy tears.
"Look, my dear Schachtner!" he cried. "See how correct and orderly it
all is, all written according to rule. Only one could never play it
for it seems to be too difficult."
"But it's a sonata, Papa, and one must practice it first, of course,
but this is the way it should go."
He sprang to the piano and began to play. The small fingers could not
master the more intricate parts, but gave sufficient idea of how he
intended the piece to sound.
They stood in speechless astonishment at this proof of the child's
powers; then Leopold Mozart caught up the little composer and kissing
him cried, "My Wolfgang, you will become a great musician."
Wolfgang, not content with merely learning the piano, begged to study
the violin also. His violin lessons had hardly begun when one evening
his father and two friends were about to play a set of six trios,
composed by Wentzl, one of the players. Wolfgang begged to be allowed
to play the second violin. Needless to say his request was refused.
At last he was told he might sit next to Schachtner and make believe
play, though he must make no sound.
The playing began, when before long it was seen the boy was actually
playing the second violin part and doing it correctly. The second
violin ceased bowing in amazement and allowed Wolfgang to go on alone.
After this he was permitted to play all the second violin part of
the whole six pieces. Emboldened by this success, he volunteered
to attempt the first violin part, an offer which was greeted with
laughter; but nothing daunted, he took up his violin and began. There
were mistakes here and there, of course, but he persisted to the end,
to the astonishment of all.
Three years had passed swiftly by since little Wolfgang Mozart began
to study music the night of his father's fortieth birthday. He had
made marvelous progress and already the fame of his powers had passed
beyond the narrow limits of his native town. Leopold Mozart had no
means other than the salary which he received from the Court. His
children's musical gifts induced the father to turn them to advantage,
both to supply the family needs and to provide the children a broad
education in music. He determined to travel with the children. A
first experiment in January, 1762, had proved so successful that the
following September they set out for Vienna. Wolfgang was now six
years old and Marianne eleven.
At Linz they gave a successful concert and every one was delighted
with the playing of the children. From here they continued their
journey as far as the monastery of Ips, where they expected to stay
for the night. It had been a wonderful day, spent in sailing down
the majestic Danube, till they reached the grey old building with
its battlemented walls. Soon after they arrived, Father Mozart took
Wolfgang into the chapel to see the organ.
The child gazed with awe at the great pipes, the keyboard and the
pedals. He begged his father to explain their working, and then as
the father filled the great bellows the tiny organist pushed aside
the organ bench, stood upon the pedals and trod them, as though he had
always known how. The monks in the monastery hastened to the chapel,
holding their breath as one pointed to the figure of a tiny child in
the organ loft. Was it possible, they asked themselves, that a child
could produce such beautiful music? They remained rooted to the spot,
till Wolfgang happened to see them and crept meekly down from his
perch.
All the rest of the journey to Vienna, Wolfgang was the life of the
party, eager to know the name and history of everything they met. At
the custom-house on the frontier, he made friends with the officials
by playing for them on his violin, and thus secured an easy pass for
the party.
Arrived at Vienna, Leopold Mozart found the fame of the children's
playing had preceded them. A kind and gracious welcome awaited the
little party when they went to the palace of Schönbrunn. The Emperor
Franz Josef took to Wolfgang at once, was delighted with his playing
and called him his "little magician." The boy's powers were tested by
being required to read difficult pieces at sight, and playing with one
finger, as the Emperor jestingly asked him to do. Next, the keyboard
was covered with a cloth, as a final test, but little Wolfgang played
as finely as before, to the great delight of the company who applauded
heartily. The little magician was so pleased with the kindness of both
the Emperor and Empress that he returned it in his own childish way,
by climbing into the lap of the Empress and giving her a hug and a
kiss, just as though she were his own mother. He was also greatly
attracted by the little Princess Marie Antoinette, a beautiful child
of about his own age, with long fair curls and laughing blue eyes. The
two struck up an immediate friendship.
After the favor shown them at Court, the gifted children became the
rage in Vienna society. Invitations poured in from every side, and
many gifts. Those bestowed by the royal family were perhaps the most
valued. Wolfgang's present was a violet colored suit, trimmed with
broad gold braid, while Nannerl received a pretty white silk dress.
Each of the children also received a beautiful diamond ring from the
Emperor. A portrait of the boy in his gala suit, which was painted at
the time, is still preserved.
The following year the Mozarts took the children on a longer journey,
this time with Paris in view. They stopped at many towns and cities
on the way. At Frankfort the first performance was so successful that
three more were given. A newspaper of the time says "little Mozart
is able to name all notes played at a distance, whether single or in
chords, whether played on the piano, or any other instrument, bell,
glass or clock." The father offered as an additional attraction that
Wolfgang would play with the keyboard covered.
The family stayed five months in Paris; the children played before
the Court at Versailles, exciting surprise and enthusiasm there and
wherever they appeared. From Paris they traveled to London, in April,
1764.
Leopold Mozart's first care on reaching the great English metropolis
was to obtain an introduction at Court. King George III and the Queen
were very fond of music, and it was not long before an invitation came
for the children to attend at the Palace. The King showed the greatest
interest in Wolfgang, asking him to play at sight difficult pieces by
Bach and Handel. Then the boy, after accompanying the Queen in a song,
selected the bass part in a piece by Handel, and improvised a charming
melody to it. The King was so impressed that he wished him to play the
organ, in the playing of which Wolfgang won a further triumph.
The King's birthday was to be celebrated on June 4 and London was
crowded with people from all parts of the country. Leopold Mozart had
chosen June 5 as the date for his first public concert. The hall was
filled to overflowing; one hundred guineas being taken in. Many of the
assisting performers would take no fee for their services, which added
to the father's gratitude and happiness.
Not long after this Leopold Mozart fell ill, and the little family
moved to Chelsea, for the quiet and good air. Later they were
given another reception at Court, where, after Wolfgang's wonderful
performances, the children won much applause by playing some piano
duets composed by the boy--a style of composition then quite new.
In July, 1765, the family left London and traveled in Holland, after
which came a second visit to Paris, where they added to their former
triumphs, in addition to playing in many towns on the way back.
Finally the long tour was brought to a close by the return to Salzburg
in November, 1766.
At the period of musical history in which the gifted boy lived, a
musician's education was not complete unless he went to Italy, for
this country stood first as the home of music. Leopold Mozart had made
a couple of trips to Vienna with his children, the account of which
need not detain us here. He had decided that Wolfgang must go to
Italy, and breathe in the atmosphere of that land of song. And so in
December, 1769, father and son set out for the sunny south, with high
hopes for success.
Mozart's happy nature was jubilant over the journey. He watched
eagerly the peasants as they danced on the vine-clad terraces,
overlooking the deep blue lakes,--or listened as they sang at their
work in the sunny fields. He gazed at the wonderful processions of
priests through narrow streets of the towns, but above all there was
the grand music in the cathedrals.
The young musician had plenty of work to do, more than most boys
of thirteen. For, besides the concerts he had to give, he was set
difficult problems by the various professors who wished to test his
powers. The fame of his playing constantly spread, so the further he
traveled into Italy there were more demands to hear him. At Roveredo,
where it was announced he would play the organ in St. Thomas's Church,
the crowd was so great he could scarcely get to the organ-loft. The
vast audience listened spellbound, and then refused to disperse till
they had caught a glimpse of the boy player. At Verona he had another
triumph; one of his symphonies was performed, and his portrait was
ordered to be painted.
When they reached Milan the Chief musician of the city subjected the
boy to severe tests, all of which he accomplished to the astonishment
and delight of everybody. It was at Bologna however, where he met
the most flattering reception. Here was the home of the famous Padre
Martini, the aged composer of church music. Father Martini was almost
worshiped by the Italians; he was a most lovable man and looked up to
as a great composer. He had long ago given up attending concerts, so
that every one was astonished when he was present in the brilliant
audience gathered at Count Pallavicini's mansion to listen to the
boy's playing. Wolfgang did his best, for he realized the importance
of the event. Father Martini took the boy to his heart at once,
invited him to visit him as often as possible during his stay,
and gave him several fugue subjects to work out. These the boy
accomplished with ease, and the Padre declared he was perfectly
satisfied with his knowledge of composition.
The journey to Rome was now continued, and for Wolfgang it was a
succession of triumphs. At Florence he played before the Court of the
Archduke Leopold, and solved every problem put to him by the Court
music director as easily as though he were eating a bit of bread.
It was Holy Week when young Mozart and his father entered Rome, and
the city lay under the spell of the great festival of the year. They
soon joined the throngs that filled the vast temple of St. Peter's,
to which all turn during this solemn season. After attending a service
and viewing the treasures of the Cathedral, they turned their steps to
the Sistine Chapel, which contains the wonderful painting of the Last
Judgment by Michael Angelo. It was here that the celebrated Miserere
by Allegri was performed. Wolfgang had been looking forward to this
moment all through the latter part of his journey. His father had told
him how jealously guarded this music was; it could never be performed
in any other place, and the singers could never take their parts out
of the chapel. He was intensely eager to hear this work. And indeed it
would be difficult to imagine anything more beautiful and impressive
than the singing of the Miserere, which means "Have Mercy." It follows
the solemn service called Tenebrae, (Darkness) during which the six
tall candles on the altar are extinguished one by one,--till but one
is left, which is removed to a space behind the altar. Then in almost
complete darkness the Miserere begins. A single voice is heard singing
the antiphon, or short introduction,--and then comes silence, a
silence so profound that the listener scarcely dares to breathe
for fear of disturbing it. At length the first sad notes of the
supplication are heard, like the softest wailing of an anguished
spirit; they gradually gain force till the whole building seems to
throb with the thrilling intensity of the music.
The young musician was profoundly moved; the father too was much
affected by the solemn service. Neither spoke as they left the chapel
and sought their lodgings. After they had retired the boy could not
sleep; his thoughts were filled with the wonderful music he had heard.
He arose, lit the lamp, and got out pens and music paper. He worked
industriously the long night through. When morning dawned the boy sat
with his beautiful head upon his folded arms, asleep, while before him
on the table lay a score of the Miserere of Allegri, entirely written
from memory.
The next day, Good Friday, the Miserere was performed for the second
time. Wolfgang, the boy of fourteen, who had performed the wonderful
feat of writing this work out after one hearing, again attended the
service, keeping the score in his hat, and found his work was nearly
perfect, needing but a couple of trifling corrections.
The news of this startling feat gained for the young musician a
cordial welcome into the houses of the great in Rome; during their
stay father and son were fêted to their hearts' content.
At Naples, their next stopping place, Wolfgang played before a
brilliant company, and excited so much astonishment, that people
declared his power in playing came from a ring he wore on his finger.
"He wears a charm," they cried. Mozart smiled, took off the ring and
played more brilliantly than ever. Then the enthusiasm was redoubled.
The Neapolitans showed them every attention and honor. A carriage
was provided for their use, and we have an account of how they drove
through the best streets, the father wearing a maroon-colored coat
with light blue facings, and Wolfgang in one of apple green, with
rose-colored facings and silver buttons.
It was indeed a wonderful tour which they made in Italy, though there
is not time to tell of many things that happened. On their return to
Rome, the Pope gave him the order of the Golden Spur, which made him
Chevalier de Mozart. Arriving at Bologna the young musician was made a
member of the Accademia Filharmonica. The test for this admission was
setting an antiphon in four parts. Wolfgang was locked in a room till
the task should be finished. To the astonishment of everybody he asked
to be let out at the end of half an hour,--having completed the work.
The travelers now proceeded to Milan, where Mozart was to work on his
first opera, for which he had received a commission. It was a great
task for a boy to accomplish and we find the young composer writing
to his mother and sister to pray for his success. The opera was called
"Mitridate," and was finished after three months' hard work. The first
performance was given in Milan, December 26, 1770, and was conducted
by Wolfgang himself. It was a proud, happy day for the father, indeed
for the whole family. "Mitridate" succeeded beyond their hopes; it was
given twenty times before crowded houses; and its success brought an
election to the Accademia, and also a commission to write a dramatic
Serenata for an approaching royal wedding. This work also was a great
success. The Empress who had commissioned Mozart to compose the work
was so pleased, that besides the promised fee, she gave the composer a
gold watch with her portrait set in diamonds on the back.
Sunshine and success had followed the gifted boy through all his
travels; but now shadows and disappointments were to come, due to
jealousy, intrigue and indifference of those in power who might have
helped him but failed to recognize his genius. Shortly after the
return of the father and son to their home town of Salzburg, their
protector and friend, the good Archbishop of Salzburg, died. His
successor was indifferent to art and held in contempt those who
followed it as a profession. He persistently refused to appoint the
young musician to any office worthy his talent or to recognize his
gifts in any way. While Mozart remained at home in Salzburg, hoping
his prospects would improve, he worked at composing with untiring
diligence. By the time he was twenty-one he had accumulated a mass
of music that embraced every branch of the art. He had a growing
reputation as a composer but no settled future. He had the post of
concertmaster, it is true, but the salary was but a trifle and he
was often pressed for money. Leopold therefore decided to undertake
another professional tour with his son. The Archbishop however
prevented the father leaving Salzburg. So the only course left open
was to allow Wolfgang and his mother to travel together. They set out
on the morning of September 23, 1777. Wolfgang's spirits rose as the
town of Salzburg faded into the haze of that September morning; the
sense of freedom was exhilarating; he had escaped the place associated
in his mind with tyranny and oppression, to seek his fortune in new
and wider fields.
At Munich where they first halted, Wolfgang sought an engagement
at the Elector's Court. He had an audience at the Nymphenburg, a
magnificent palace on the outskirts of the city. The Elector said
there was no vacancy; he did not know but later it might be possible
to make one, after Mozart had been to Italy and had made a name for
himself. With these words the Elector turned away. Mozart stood as
if stunned. To Italy, when he had concertized there for about seven
years, and had been showered with honors! It was too much. He shook
off the dust of Munich and he and his mother went on to Mannheim.
Here was a more congenial atmosphere. The Elector maintained a fine
orchestra, and with the conductor, Cannabich, Mozart became great
friends, giving music lessons to his daughter. But he could not seem
to secure a permanent appointment at Court, worthy his genius and
ability. Money became more scarce and the father and sister must make
many sacrifices at home to send money to maintain mother and son. With
the best of intentions Wolfgang failed to make his way except as a
piano teacher. The father had resorted to the same means of securing
the extra sums required, and wrote quite sharply to the son to bestir
himself and get something settled for the future.
For the young genius, Mannheim possessed a special attraction of which
the father knew nothing. Shortly after their arrival in the city,
Wolfgang became acquainted with the Weber family. The two oldest
daughters, Aloysia, fifteen, and Constanza, fourteen, were charming
girls just budding into womanhood. Aloysia had a sweet, pure voice,
and was studying for the stage; indeed she had already made her début
in opera. It was not at all strange that young Mozart, who often
joined the family circle, should fall in love with the girl's fair
beauty and fresh voice, should write songs for her and teach her
to sing them as he wished. They were much together and their early
attraction fast ripened into love. Wolfgang formed a project for
helping the Webers, who were in rather straitened circumstances, by
undertaking a journey to Italy in company with Aloysia and her father;
he would write an opera in which Aloysia should appear as prima donna.
Of this brilliant plan he wrote his father, saying they could stop in
Salzburg on the way, when the father and Nannerl could meet the fair
young singer, whom they would be sure to love.
Leopold Mozart was distracted at news of this project. He at once
wrote, advising his son to go to Paris and try there to make a name
and fame for himself. The son dutifully yielded at once. With a heavy
heart he prepared to leave Mannheim, where he had spent such a happy
winter, and his love dream came to an end. It was a sad parting with
the Weber household, for they regarded Wolfgang as their greatest
benefactor.
The hopes Leopold Mozart had built on Wolfgang's success in Paris were
not to be realized. The enthusiasm he had aroused as a child prodigy
was not awarded to the matured musician. Three months passed away in
more or less fruitless endeavor. Then the mother, who had been his
constant companion in these trials and travels, fell seriously ill. On
July 3, 1778, she passed away in her son's arms.
Mozart prepared to leave Paris at once, and his father was the
more willing, since the Archbishop of Salzburg offered Wolfgang
the position of Court organist, at a salary of 500 florins, with
permission to absent himself whenever he might be called upon to
conduct his own operas. Leopold urged Wolfgang's acceptance, as their
joint income would amount to one thousand florins a year--a sum that
would enable them to pay their debts and live in comparative comfort.
To Mozart the thought of settling down in Salzburg under the
conditions stated in his father's letter was distasteful, but he had
not the heart to withstand his father's appeal. He set out from Paris
at once, promising himself just one indulgence before entering the
bondage which lay before him, a visit to his friends the Webers at
Mannheim. When he arrived there he found they had gone to Munich to
live. Therefore he pushed on to Munich. The Weber family received him
as warmly as of old, but in Aloysia's eyes there was only a friendly
greeting, nothing more. A few short months had cooled her fickle
attachment for the young composer. This discovery was a bitter
trial to Wolfgang and he returned to his Salzburg home saddened by
disappointed love and ambition.
Here in his old home he was cheered by a rapturous welcome; it was
little short of a triumph, this greeting and homage showered on him by
father, sister and friends. In their eyes his success was unshadowed
by failure; to them he was Mozart the great composer, the genius among
musicians. He was very grateful for these proofs of affection and
esteem, but he had still the same aversion to Salzburg and his Court
duties. So it was with new-kindled joy that he set out once more for
Munich, in November, 1780, to complete and produce the opera he had
been commissioned to write for the carnival the following year.
The new opera, "Idomeneo," fulfilled the high expectations his Munich
friends had formed of the composer's genius. Its reception at the
rehearsals proved success was certain, and the Elector who was
present, joined the performers in expressing his unqualified approval.
At home the progress of the work was followed with deepest interest.
The first performance of "Idomeneo" took place on January 29, 1781.
Leopold and Marianne journeyed to Munich to witness Wolfgang's
triumph. It was a proud, happy moment for all three; the enthusiastic
acclaim which shook the theater seemed to the old father, who watched
with swimming eyes the sea of waving hands around him, to set the seal
of greatness on his son's career.
The Archbishop, under whom Mozart held the meager office we have
spoken of, grew more overbearing in his treatment; he was undoubtedly
jealous that great people of Vienna were so deferential to one of his
servants, as he chose to call him. At last the rupture came; after a
stormy scene Mozart was dismissed from his service, and was free.
Father Mozart was alarmed when he heard the news of the break, and
endeavored to induce Wolfgang to reconsider his decision and return to
Salzburg. But the son took a firm stand for his independence. "Do not
ask me to return to Salzburg," he wrote his father; "ask me anything
but that."
And now came a time of struggling for Mozart. His small salary was cut
off and he had but one pupil. He had numerous friends, however, and
soon his fortunes began to mend. He was lodging with his old friends
the Webers. Aloysia, his former beloved, had married; Madame Weber
and her two unmarried daughters were now in Vienna and in reduced
circumstances. Mozart's latest opera, "The Elopement," had brought
him fame both in Vienna and Prague, and he had the patronage of many
distinguished persons, as well as that of Emperor Josef.
Mozart had now decided to make a home for himself, and chose as his
bride Constanza Weber, a younger sister of Aloysia, his first love. In
spite of Leopold Mozart's remonstrance, the young people were married
August 16, 1782.
Constanza, though a devoted wife, was inexperienced in home keeping.
The young couple were soon involved in many financial troubles
from which there seemed no way out, except by means of some Court
appointment. This the Emperor in spite of his sincere interest in the
composer, seemed disinclined to give.
Mozart now thought seriously of a journey to London and Paris, but
his father's urgent appeal that he would wait and exercise patience,
delayed him. Meanwhile he carried out an ardent desire to pay a visit
to his father and sister in Salzburg, to present to them his bride.
It was a very happy visit, and later on, when Mozart and his wife were
again settled in Vienna, they welcomed the father on a return visit.
Leopold found his son immersed in work, and it gladdened his heart to
see the appreciation in which his playing and compositions were held.
One happy evening they spent with Josef Haydn who, after hearing some
of Mozart's quartets played, took the father aside, saying: "I declare
before God, as a man of honor, that your son is the greatest composer
I know, either personally or by reputation. He has taste, but more
than that the most consummate knowledge of the art of composition."
This happy time was to be the last meeting between father and son.
Soon after Leopold's return to Salzburg, he was stricken with illness,
and passed away May 28, 1787. The news reached the composer shortly
after he had achieved one of the greatest successes of his life. The
performances of his latest opera, "The Marriage of Figaro," had been
hailed with delight by enthusiastic crowds in Vienna and Prague; its
songs were heard at every street corner, and village ale house. "Never
was anything more complete than the triumph of Mozart and his 'Nozze
di Figaro,'" wrote a singer and friend.--"And for Mozart himself, I
shall never forget his face when lighted up with the glowing rays of
genius; it is as impossible to describe as to paint sunbeams."
Despite the success of Figaro, Mozart was still a poor man, and must
earn his bread by giving music lessons. Finally the Emperor, hoping
to keep him in Germany, appointed him Chamber-composer at a salary
of about eighty pounds a year. It must have seemed to Mozart and his
friends a beggarly sum for the value his Majesty professed to set upon
the composer's services to art. "Too much for the little I am asked to
produce, too little for what I could produce," were the bitter words
he penned on the official return stating the amount of his salary.
Mozart was inclined to be somewhat extravagant in dress and household
expenditure, also very generous to any one who needed assistance.
These trials, added to the fact that his wife was frequently in
ill health, and not very economical, served to keep the family in
continual straits. Occasionally they were even without fire or food,
though friends always assisted such dire distress. Mozart's father had
declared procrastination was his son's besetting sin. Yet the son was
a tireless worker, never idle. In September, 1787, he was at Prague,
writing the score of his greatest opera, "Don Giovanni"; the time was
short, as the work was to be produced October 29. On the evening of
the 28th it was found he had not yet written the overture. It only
had to be written down, for this wonderful genius had the music quite
complete in his head. He set to work, while his wife read fairy tales
aloud to keep him awake, and gave him strong punch at intervals. By
seven o'clock next morning the score was ready for the copyist. It was
played in the evening without rehearsal, with the ink scarcely dry on
the paper.
Even the successes of "Don Giovanni," which was received with thunders
of applause, failed to remedy his desperate financial straits. Shortly
after this his pupil and patron, Prince Karl Lichnowsky, proposed he
should accompany him to Berlin. Mozart gladly consented, hoping for
some betterment to his fortunes. The King of Prussia received him
with honor and respect and offered him the post of Capellmeister, at
a salary equal to about three thousand dollars. This sum would have
liberated him from all his financial embarrassments, and he was
strongly tempted to accept. But loyalty to his good Emperor Josef
caused him to decline the offer.
The month of July, 1791, found Mozart at home in Vienna at work on a
magic opera to help his friend Salieri, who had taken a little theater
in the suburb of Wieden. One day he was visited by a stranger, a tall
man, who said he came to commission Mozart to compose a Requiem. He
would neither give his own name nor that of the person who had sent
him.
Mozart was somewhat depressed by this mysterious commission; however
he set to work on the Requiem at once. The composing of both this and
the fairy opera was suddenly interrupted by a pressing request that he
would write an opera for the coronation of Leopold II at Prague. The
ceremony was fixed for September 6, so no time was to be lost. Mozart
set out at once for Prague. The traveling carriage was at the door.
As he was about to enter it, the mysterious stranger suddenly appeared
and enquired for the Requiem. The composer could only promise to
finish on his return, when hastily entering his carriage, he drove
away.
The new opera, "La Clemenza di Tito," was finished in time and
performed, but was received somewhat indifferently. Mozart returned to
Vienna with spirits depressed and body exhausted by overwork. However,
he braced himself anew, and on September 30th, the new fairy opera,
the "Magic Flute," was produced, and its success increased with each
performance.
The Requiem was not yet finished and to this work Mozart now turned.
But the strain and excitement he had undergone for the past few months
had done their work: a succession of fainting spells overcame him, and
the marvelous powers which had always been his seemed no longer at his
command. He feared he would not live to complete the work. "It is for
myself I am writing the Requiem," he said sadly to Constanza, one day.
On the evening of December 4, friends who had gathered at his bedside,
handed him, at his desire, the score of the Requiem, and, propped up
by pillows he tried to sing one of the passages. The effort was too
great; the manuscript slipped from his nerveless hand and he fell back
speechless with emotion. A few hours later, on the morning of December
5, 1791, this great master of whom it was prophesied that he would
cause all others to be forgotten, passed from the scene of his many
struggles and greater triumphs.
Mozart Facts and Information
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| Listening to classical music is a passtime that can provide hours of excitement or quiet contemplation. Whether you prefer to attend a concert performance in person, listen to an audio cd or watch your favorite orchestra or opera company on dvd, a knowledge of the composer and facts and information about the provenance of various pieces enhances the experience. We offer these biographies, criticisms and essays in hope that your listening experience will be as enjoyable as possible. |
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