Rousseau and Revolution

  Father and son returned to Salzburg (December 11, 1771). Five days later the good Sigismund died. His successor as archbishop, Hieronymus von Paula, Count von Colloredo, was a man of intellectual culture, an admirer of Rousseau and Voltaire, an enlightened despot eager to carry out the reforms that Joseph II was preparing. But even more than Joseph he was despotic as well as enlightened, demanding discipline and obedience, and intolerant of opposition. For his ceremonial installation on April 29, 1772, he asked nothing less than an opera from Mozart. The now famous youth responded hastily with Il sogno di Scipione (The Dream of Scipio) ; it served its turn and is forgotten. Colloredo forgave it, and appointed Wolfgang concertmaster with a yearly salary of 150 florins. The youth busied himself for some months with composing symphonies, quartets, and religious music, but also he worked on an opera, Lucio Silla, which Milan had ordered for 1773.

  By November 4, 1772, Leopold and his moneymaker were again in the Lombard capital, and soon Wolf was laboring to find compromises between his musical ideas and the caprices and capacities of the singers. The prima donna began by being imperious and hard to satisfy; the maestrino was patient with her; she ended by loving him, and declared herself “enchanted by the incomparable way Mozart had served her.”14 The première (February 26, 1772) was not so certain a success as Mitridate two years before; the tenor fell ill during rehearsals, and had to be replaced by a singer with no stage experience; nevertheless the opera bore nineteen repetitions. The music was difficult; the arias were strung too high with passion; perhaps some strain of Germany’s Sturm und Drang had made here an incongruous entry into Italian opera.15 In exchange, Mozart brought back with him the bel canto clarity of Italian song, and his naturally happy spirit was further brightened by Italian skies and plein-air life. He learned in Italy that opera buff a, as he heard it in the works of Piccini and Paisiello, could be high art; he studied the form, and in Figaro and Don Giovanni he perfected it. To his alert mind and ears every experience was education.

  March 13, 1773, saw père et fils again in Salzburg. The new Archbishop was not as tolerant of their long absences as Sigismund had been. He saw no reason for rewarding Leopold with promotion, and treated Wolfgang as merely one of his household retinue. He expected the Mozarts to supply his choir and his orchestra with music prompt, new, and good; and for two years they labored to satisfy him. But Leopold wondered how he could support his family without additional tours, and Wolfgang, accustomed to applause, could not adjust himself to being a musical servant. Besides, he wanted to write operas, and Salzburg had too small a stage, too small a choir, orchestra, and audience, to let the bright fledgling flap his expanding wings.

  The clouds broke for a while when Elector Maximilian Joseph of Bavaria commissioned Mozart to write an opera buff a for the Munich Carnival of 1775, and secured the Archbishop’s consent to a leave of absence for the composer and his father. They left Salzburg on December 6, 1774. Wolfgang suffered from the severe cold, which brought on a toothache more severe than either music or philosophy could mitigate. But the première of La finta giardiniera (The Pretended Garden Girl), January 13, 1775, led Christian Schubart, a prominent composer, to predict: “If Mozart does not turn out to be a hothouse plant [too rapidly developed by intensive domestic care], he will undoubtedly be one of the greatest composers that ever lived.”16 His head swirling with success, Mozart returned to Salzburg to serve what he felt to be an unworthy vassalage.

  The Archbishop ordered a music drama to celebrate the expected visit of Maria Theresa’s youngest son, the Archduke Maximilian; Mozart took an old libretto by Metastasio and composed Il re pastore (The Shepherd King). It was performed on April 23, 1775. The story is silly, the music is excellent; excerpts from it still show up in the concert repertoire. Meanwhile Mozart was pouring forth sonatas, symphonies, concertos, serenades, Masses; and some of the compositions of these unhappy years—e.g., the Piano Concerto in E Flat (K. 271) and the Serenade in B (K. 250)—are among his enduring masterpieces. The Archbishop, however, told him that he knew nothing of the composer’s art, and should go to study at the Naples Conservatory.17

  Unable to bear the situation longer, Leopold asked permission to take his son on a tour; Colloredo refused, saying he would not have members of his staff go on “begging expeditions.” When Leopold asked again the Archbishop dismissed him and his son from their employment. Wolfgang rejoiced, but his father was frightened at the prospect of being flung, aged fifty-six, upon the indiscriminate world. The Archbishop relented and reinstated him, but would not hear of any absence from his work. Who now would go with Wolfgang upon the extensive foray that had been planned? Mozart was twenty-one, just the age for sexual adventure and marital imprisonment; more than ever he needed guidance. So it was deci4ed that his mother should accompany him. Marianna, trying to forget that she too had been a genius, remained to give her father the most loving care. On September 23, 1777, mother and son left Salzburg to conquer Germany and France.

  III. MUSIC AND MARRIAGE: 1777-78

  From Munich, on September 26, Mozart wrote to his father a paean of liberation: “I am in my very best spirits, for my head has been as light as a feather ever since I got away from all that humbug; and what is more, I have become fatter.”18 That letter must have crossed one from Leopold, whose emotion may remind us again that the events of history were written upon human flesh:

  After you both had left, I walked up our steps very wearily, and threw myself down on a chair. When we said good-by I made great efforts to retain myself in order not to make our parting too painful, and in the rush and flurry I forgot to give my son a father’s blessing. I ran to the window and sent my blessing after you, but I did not see you. … Nannerl wept bitterly. … She and I send greetings to Mamma, and we kiss you and her millions of times.19

  Munich taught Wolfgang that he was no longer a prodigy, but just one musician in a land where the supply of composers and performers was outrunning the demand. He had hoped to secure a good place in the Elector’s musical retinue, but all places were filled. Mother and son passed on to Augsburg, where they wore themselves out with visiting, at Leopold’s urging, the friends of Leopold’s youth; but the survivors were now mostly fat and stodgy, and Wolfgang found no interest in them except with a merry cousin, Maria Anna Thekla Mozart, whom he was to immortalize with obscenities. More to his purpose was Johann Andreas Stein, maker of pianofortes; here for the first time Mozart, who had hitherto used the harpsichord, began to appreciate the possibilities of the new instrument; by the time he reached Paris he had made his transition to the piano. At a concert in Augsburg he played both the piano and the violin, to great applause but little profit.

  On October 26 mother and son moved on to Mannheim. There Mozart enjoyed the company and stimulus of skilled musicians, but the Elector Karl Theodor could find no opening for him, and rewarded his performance at court with only a gold watch. Mozart wrote to his father: “Ten carolins would have suited me better. … What one needs on a journey is money; and, let me tell you, I now have five watches.... I am seriously thinking of having a watch pocket on each leg of my trousers; when I visit some great lord I shall wear both watches, … so that it will not occur to him to give me another.”20 Leopold advised him to hurry on to Paris, where Grimm and Mme. d’Épinay would help him; but Wolfgang persuaded his mother that the trip would be too arduous for her in the winter months. Assuming that they were soon leaving for Paris, Leopold warned Wolfgang to beware of the women and the musicians there, and reminded him that he was now the financial hope of the family. Leopold had gone into debt for seven hundred gulden; he was taking pupils in his old age,

  and that, too, in a town where this heavy work is wretchedly paid. … Our future depends upon your abundant good sense.... I know that you love me, not merely as your father, but also as your truest and surest friend; and that you understand and realize that our happiness and unhappiness, and, what is more, my long life or my speedy death, are, … apart from God, in your hands. If
I have read you aright, I have nothing but joy to expect from you, and this alone must console me when I am robbed by your absence of a father’s delight in hearing you, seeing you, and folding you in my arms. … From my heart I give you my paternal blessing.21

  To one of Leopold’s letters (February 9, 1778) “Nannerl,” now twenty-six, dowerless and facing spinsterhood, added a note that rounds out the picture of this loving family:

  Papa never leaves me room enough to write to Mamma and yourself.... I beg her not to forget me.... I wish you a pleasant journey to Paris, and the best of health. I do hope, however, that I shall be able to embrace you soon. God alone knows when that will happen. We are both longing for you to make your fortune, for that, I know for certain, will mean happiness for us all. I kiss Mamma’s hands and embrace you, and trust that you will always remember us and think of us. But you must do so only when you have time, say for a quarter of an hour when you are neither composing nor teaching.22

  It was in this mood of great expectations and loving trust that Leopold received a letter written by Wolfgang on February 4, announcing the arrival of Cupid. Among the minor musicians at Mannheim was Fridolin Weber, who was blessed and burdened with a wife, five daughters, and a son. Frau Weber was casting nets to snare husbands, especially for the oldest daughter, Josefa, nineteen and nervously nubile. Mozart, however, fancied Aloysia, sixteen, whose angelic voice and swelling charms made her a young musician’s dream. He hardly noticed Constanze, fourteen, who was to be his wife. For Aloysia he composed some of his tenderest songs. When she sang them he forgot his own ambitions, and thought of accompanying her—and Josefa and their father—to Italy, where she could get vocal instruction and operatic opportunities, while he would help to support them by giving concerts and writing operas. All this the brave young lover explained to his father:

  I have become so fond of this unfortunate family that my dearest wish is to make them happy. … My advice is that they should go to Italy. So now I should like you to write to our good friend Lugiati, and the sooner the better, and inquire what are the highest terms given to a prima donna in Verona. … As far as Aloysia’s singing is concerned, I would wager my life that she will bring me renown.... If our plan succeeds, we—Herr Weber, his two daughters, and I—will have the honor of visiting my dear sister for a fortnight on our way through Salzburg.... I will gladly write an opera for Verona for fifty zecchini ($650?), if only in order that she may make her name. … The eldest daughter will be very useful to us, for we could have our own ménage, as she can cook. Apropos, you must not be too much surprised when you learn that I have only forty-two gulden left out of seventy-seven. This is merely the result of my delight at being again in the company of honest and like-minded people. . . .

  Send me an answer soon. Do not forget how much I desire to write operas. I envy anyone who is composing one. I could really weep for vexation when I hear … an aria. But Italian, not German; seria, not buffa! … I have now written all that is weighing on my heart. My mother is quite satisfied with my ideas. … The thought of helping a poor family, without injury to myself, delights my very soul. I kiss your hands a thousand times and remain until death your most obedient son.23

  Leopold replied on February 11:

  My dear son! I have read your letter of the 4th with amazement and horror. … For the whole night I have been unable to sleep. … Merciful God! … Those happy moments are gone when, as a child or a boy, you never went to bed without standing on a chair and singing to me, … and kissing me again and again on the tip of my nose, and telling me that when I grew old you would put me in a glass case and protect me from every breath of air, so that you might always have me with you and honor me. Listen to me, therefore, in patience! ...

  He went on to say that he had hoped Wolfgang would defer marriage until he had made a secure place for himself in the musical world; then he would get a good wife, bring up a fine family, help his parents and his sister. But now, infatuated with a young siren, this son forgets his parents, and thinks only of following a girl to Italy, as part of her entourage. What incredible nonsense!

  Off with you to Paris! and that soon! Find your place among great people. Aut Caesar aut nihil! … From Paris the name and fame of a man of great talent resounds through the whole world. There the nobility treat men of genius with the greatest deference, esteem, and courtesy; there you will see a refined manner of life, which forms an astonishing contrast to the coarseness of our German courtiers and their ladies; and there you may become proficient in the French tongue.24

  Mozart answered humbly that he had not taken very seriously the plan to escort the Webers to Italy. He said a tearful goodbye to the Webers, and promised to see them on his way home. On March 14, 1778, he and his mother set off in the public coach for Paris.

  IV. IN PARIS: 1778

  They arrived on March 23, just in time to be engulfed in the apotheosis of Voltaire. They took simple lodgings, and Mozart ran about seeking commissions. Grimm and Mme d’Épinay bestirred themselves to draw some attention to the youth whom Paris had acclaimed as a prodigy fourteen years before. Versailles offered him the post of court organist at two thousand livres for six months’ service per year; Leopold advised him to take it; Grimm opposed; Mozart refused it as too poorly paid, and perhaps as uncongenial to his talent. Many homes were opened to him if he would play the piano for a meal, but even to get to those homes required an expensive cab ride through muddy streets. One noble, the Duc de Guiñes, looked promising; for him and his daughter Mozart composed the glorious Concerto in C for flute and harp (K. 299), and he gave the young lady lessons in composition at a good fee; but soon she married, and the Duke paid only three louis d’or ($75?) for a concerto that should have laid Paris at Mozart’s feet. For the first time in his life Mozart lost courage. “I am tolerably well,” he wrote to his father on May 29, “but I often wonder whether life is worth living.” His spirits revived when Le Gros, director of the Concerts Spirituels, engaged him to write a symphony (K. 297). It was performed on June 18 with success.

  Then, on July 3, his mother died. She had begun by enjoying her vacation from Salzburg and housewifery; soon she was longing to return to her home and the daily tasks and contacts that had given substance and significance to her life. The nine days’ trip to Paris in a jolting coach and jarring company and drenching rain had broken her health; and the failure of her son to find a berth in Paris had cast a gloom over her usually buoyant spirit. Day after day she had sat solitary amid strange surroundings and unintelligible words, while her son went to pupils, concerts, operas … Now, seeing her fade quietly away, Mozart spent the last weeks at her side, caring for her tenderly, and hardly believing that she could die so soon.

  Mme. d’Épinay offered him a room in her home with Grimm, a place at her table, and the use of her piano. He did not quite harmonize with Grimm so near; Grimm idolized Voltaire, Mozart despised him, and was shocked at the assumption of his hosts and their friends that Christianity was a myth useful in social control. Grimm wanted him to accept small commissions as a road to larger ones, and to play gratis for influential families; Mozart felt that such a procedure would sap his strength, which he preferred to give to composing. Grimm thought him indolent, and so informed Leopold, who agreed.25 The situation was made worse by Mozart’s repeated borrowing from Grimm, to a total of fifteen louis dor ($375?). Grimm told him that repayment could be indefinitely postponed; it was.26

  The situation was resolved by a letter (August 31, 1778) from Mozart père that Archbishop Colloredo had offered to make the father Kapellmeister if Wolfgang would serve as organist and concertmaster, each to receive five hundred florins per year; moreover, “the Archbishop has declared himself prepared to let you travel where you will if you want to write an opera.” As irresistible bait Leopold added that Aloysia Weber would probably be invited to join the Salzburg choir, in which case “she must stay with us.”27 Mozart replied (September 11): “When I read your letter I trembled with joy, for I f
elt myself already in your embrace. It is true, as you will acknowledge, that it is not much of a prospect for me; but when I look forward to seeing you, and embracing my very dear sister, I think of no other prospect.”

  On September 26 he took the coach to Nancy. At Strasbourg he earned a few louis d’or with arduous concerts to almost empty houses. He dallied at Mannheim, hoping to be appointed conductor of German opera; this too failed. He went on to Munich, dreaming of Aloysia Weber. But she had found a place in the Elector’s choir, perhaps in his heart; she received Mozart with a calm that showed no desire to be his bride. He composed and sang a bitter song, and resigned himself to Salzburg.

  V. SALZBURG AND VIENNA: 1779-82

  He reached home in mid-January, and was welcomed with festivities saddened by the now keenly realized death of the mother. Soon he was in harness as organist and concertmaster, and soon he was fretting. He later recalled: