Part 6

A son was born in 1783, who died in the same year, and in the summer a visit was paid to Salzburg. A mass, which Mozart had vowed in his heart before his marriage if he succeeded in taking Constanze there as his wife, was performed; he wrote duets for violin and viola to help Michael Haydn, who was prevented by sickness from satisfying the Archbishop's command; he sketched a part of an opera, "L'Oca del Cairo." In one way the visit was a disappointment. Neither Leopold nor Marianna was really fond of Constanze, and Mozart was displeased because none of the trinkets that had been given him in his youth were offered to his wife. He returned to Vienna in October. In 1785 the father returned the visit. He wept for joy at hearing Wolfgang play the pianoforte concerto composed for the blind pianist, Marie Paradies; he heard string quartets of his son played by Haydn, Dittersdorf, Wolfgang and Vanhall; and Haydn said to him, "I assure you solemnly and as an honest man, that I consider your son to be the greatest composer of whom I have ever heard." Influenced by his son he became a Freemason. There were secret associations, brotherhoods of all descriptions, more or less closely allied to Freemasonry, throughout Germany during the latter half of the eighteenth century. Many wished to join together in fighting for liberty of conscience and independence of thought; and, as Herder, Wieland, Goethe, they saw in Freemasonry "a means of attaining their highest endeavors after universal good." In Vienna nearly all the distinguished leaders of thought were Freemasons; the lodges were fashionable, and in 1785 the Emperor Joseph placed them under the protection of the state, although he first reduced the number. It is not surprising that Mozart, with his love for humanity, his warm sympathies for all that is good and noble, should enter eagerly into masonic ties and duties. He contemplated the founding of a secret society of his own. His lodge was the oldest in Vienna, "Zur gekrönten Hoffnung," and for this lodge he wrote vocal and instrumental works, one of which, the "Trauermusik" is of great beauty and originality.

In 1784 the German opera in Vienna was almost extinct. Aloysia Lange chose Mozart's "Escape from the Seraglio" for her benefit, and the composer directed it; Gluck's "Pilgrimme von Mekka" was given, as well as Benda's melodramas. The next year it was proposed to reinstate German opera in competition with the Italian, and the scheme was carried out, but the performances were not equal to those of the Italian opera, and Mozart was not pitted by the Emperor as a native composer against the foreigner Salieri. For a festival in 1786 dramatic performances were ordered in Italian and German, and Mozart wrote the music for "Der Schauspieldirector" (The Theatre Director), while Salieri was more fortunate in his text. The Italian operas were popular with the court and the people, and the better singers went over to the Italian side. Paesiello and Sarti were welcomed heartily in Vienna, and their operas received the patronage of the Emperor. Mozart's prospects as an operatic composer were gloomy, until in 1785 he was seriously benefited by his acquaintance with Lorenzo da Ponte, abbé, poet, and rake. This singular man was appointed theatrical poet by Joseph II. through the influence of Salieri. He quarreled with his benefactor, who engaged a rival as his librettist. Da Ponte looked about for a composer with whom he could join against his enemies, and he entered into negotiations with Mozart. Beaumarchais' comedy, "Le Mariage de Figaro," had finally been put on the stage of the Théâtre-Français in April, 1784; it was exciting popular attention; and Mozart wished an adaptation for his music. The adaptation would be an easy task, but the comedy itself was not allowed in the Vienna Theatre. The poet was in the good graces of the Emperor and he confided the plan to him. Joseph admitted that Mozart was a good instrumental composer, said that his opera did not amount to much, called Mozart to him, heard portions of the work, and ordered that it should be put into rehearsal immediately. If we believe the account given by Da Ponte, the whole opera was finished in six weeks. There was a strong cabal, with Salieri at the head, against the production, but it was brought out May 1st and with overwhelming success. Michael Kelly, who sang the parts of _Basilio_ and _Don Curzio_, gives interesting accounts of the rehearsals and the performance in his "Reminiscences." "Never was anything more complete than the triumph of Mozart." At the second performance five pieces were repeated: at the third, seven; "one little duet had to be sung three times," we learn from a letter of Leopold Mozart. In November Martin's "Cosa Rara" pleased "the fickle public" mightily, and during 1787 and 1788 "Figaro" was not given. It was first performed in Berlin, Sept. 14, 1790: the critics praised it: the people preferred Martin and Dittersdorf. It was heard later in all the great towns of Europe (Paris, 1793; London, 1812, with Catalani as _Susanna_); in Prague it was heard at once and with the greatest success, and this led to "Don Giovanni."

The success of "Figaro" was not of material benefit to Mozart in Vienna. He fretted at the necessity of teaching; he envied Gyrowetz, who went to Italy. In 1786, a third child was born to him, Leopold, who died in the spring of the next year. His English friends urged him to go to England. He thought seriously of doing this, when he received one day a letter from the orchestra of Prague, to which the leading connoisseurs and amateurs had added their names, begging him to visit the town and see for himself the enormous success of "Figaro." Bohemia was a musical country, and at the capital music was cultivated passionately. There was an excellent school where pupils of talent were educated by the support of patrons. The members of the nobility had their orchestras, and some demanded that their servants should be musicians. "Figaro" was played by the Bondini Italian company throughout the winter of 1786-7, and the public enthusiasm was unbounded. The opera was turned into chamber music. It was arranged for all combinations of instruments. It was sung in the streets; it was whistled at street corners. Mozart with his wife arrived in Prague in January, 1787, and they were entertained by Count Thun. His visit was one of unalloyed happiness. He saw the beauties of Prague "hopping about to the music of 'Figaro' turned into waltzes and country dances. The people talked of nothing but 'Figaro.'" In the theatre he was welcomed with uproarious applause. His two concerts were in every way successful. And here he amused himself, doing little work, until Bondini made a contract with him by which Mozart agreed to give him an opera for the next season for one hundred ducats.

Naturally he thought at once of Da Ponte, and Da Ponte suggested the legend of Don Juan Tenorio y Salazar, Lord of Albarren and Count of Maraña. This story had already attracted the attention of mask-makers and comedy-writers innumerable, among them Molière, Shadwell, Goldoni; and Gluck and Righini, Tritto and Gazzaniga had set it to music, as ballet, _dramma tragicomico, or opera buffa_. Da Ponte had made his fortune by the text of "Figaro," and when he began the libretto for Mozart he was also at work on texts for Martin and Salieri. He went from one story to the other, with snuff-box and bottle of tokay before him, and the pretty daughter of his hostess by his side. "Don Giovanni" and Martin's "L'Arbore di Diana" were finished in sixty-three days. We know little or nothing of Mozart's methods in writing the music of the work. His thematic catalogue shows that from March till September few other important works were written, and the greatest of these are the string quintets in C major and G minor. His father died in May, and Mozart's grief may well be imagined. "Next to God is papa" showed the depth of his love. In September Mozart took his wife and boy to Prague. He worked in the vineyard of his old friend Duschek, and his friends talked or played at bowls. German essayists and novelists invented many stories, which reflect with discredit upon Mozart's morality during this visit to Prague, and these stories, without real foundation, were for a long time accepted as facts. He is said, for instance, to have been violently in love with the women who sang at the theatre; and continual intoxication is the mildest charge brought against him. Teresa Saporiti, the "Donna Anna," said when she first saw him, "This illustrious man has a most insignificant face," and yet their amorous adventures were long taken for granted. Nor do we know whether the many traditions are only traditions; such as his writing "_La ci darem_" five times before he could satisfy the singers; Bassi's anger, and other tales. The overture was unwritten the very evening before the day of performance. His wife mixed punch for him and told him stories, "Cinderella," "Aladdin" and tales of wonder and enchantment. Little by little, he grew sleepy as he worked. The head would droop in spite of the efforts of Scheherazade. At last he rested on the sofa, and at five o'clock Constanze aroused him. The copyist came at seven; and the orchestra played the overture at sight from wet sheets when October 29, 1787, "Don Giovanni" was first heard by an enthusiastic public. The opera was an unqualified success. Mozart stayed in Prague long enough to write a concert aria for Madame Duschek, although she was obliged to lock him in a summer-house to get it; shortly after his return to Vienna Gluck died, and December 7th he was appointed Chamber Musician by Joseph. "Don Giovanni" was not given in Vienna until May 7, 1788, and it was a failure. The Emperor is reported to have said, "The opera is divine, perhaps even more beautiful than 'Figaro,' but it will try the teeth of my Viennese." And Mozart said, "We will give them time to chew it." It was first given in Berlin, Dec. 20, 1790; Paris, 1805, in a wretched version; London, in April, 1817. In 1825 Garcia, with his daughters, was in New York; he met Da Ponte there, and at the suggestion of the latter "Don Giovanni" was given. After it had made its way in Germany, it was regarded as his masterpiece, and Mozart is reported to have said that he wrote it not at all for Vienna, a little for Prague, but mostly for himself and friends.

But the opera did not help him pecuniarily. He was in constant need of money. He was not idle, however; the great symphonies in E-flat major, G minor and C major were written in the summer months of 1788; he prepared the music for the masked balls; he wrote compositions for the pleasure of his pupils; and, at the instigation of Van Swieten, who was an enthusiastic admirer of Handel, he prepared "Acis and Galatea," "The Messiah," "Ode for St. Cecilia's Day," and "Alexander's Feast" for performance by strengthening the instrumentation. He also directed them (1788-1790). In 1789 he was invited by Prince Lichnowsky to visit him in Berlin; he gladly accepted the invitation, thinking he might better his condition. They stopped at Prague; at Dresden, where he played before the Court, and at Leipsic, where he played the organ and heard a Bach motet. At Potsdam Mozart was presented to the King, Frederick William II., who was an enlightened patron of music. He played upon the 'cello and was a man of very catholic taste. The opera stage was free to Italian, French and German composers. The orchestra in which the king often played at rehearsals was directed by Duport; the opera by Reichardt, the musician and journalist. Neither of these men looked upon Mozart's appearance in Berlin with favor, and they were none the sweeter to him when he replied to the King's question concerning the performances of the orchestra: "It contains the best virtuosos, but if the gentlemen would play together, it would be an improvement." The King offered him the position of Kapellmeister, at a salary of three thousand thalers; but Mozart would not leave his Emperor. He made a short visit to Leipsic for a benefit concert which hardly paid the expenses of the journey. On his return to Berlin he heard his "Seraglio." In a certain passage, the second violins played D sharp instead of D, and Mozart cried out angrily, "Damn it, play D, will you?" And here it is reported that he became enamored of Henriette Baranius, a singer of remarkable beauty. The boy Hummel, his pupil, gave a concert in Berlin, and was overjoyed to see him in the audience. Just before Mozart's departure in May, the King sent him one hundred friedrichsdor, and wished that he would write quartets for him. Constanze received a letter in which her husband said that she must be glad to see him, not the money he brought.

In June, 1789, Mozart worked at the quartets promised to the King. He furnished the one in D major in a month, and received a gold snuff-box with one hundred friedrichsdor. But he was poor, in debt, his wife was often sick, and he wrote in July that he was most unhappy. In December he worked busily on an opera, "Cosi fan tutte," which the Emperor had requested, and Jan. 26, 1780, it was produced with success, although it was not often given. Joseph II. died the 20th of February, and Leopold II. reigned in his stead. Mozart could expect but little of him, and when King Ferdinand of Naples visited Vienna in September, the greatest virtuoso of the town was not asked to play before him, although the royal visitor was passionately fond of music. Meanwhile his expenses were increasing, his pupils falling off. In September he pawned his silver plate to pay the passage, and went to Frankfort to attend the coronation of the Emperor. He gave a concert there, and played two of his own concertos. He went to Mayence, where he is said to have had a love-scrape, then to Munich, where at the request of the Elector he played before the King of Naples. Soon after his return to Vienna he said good-bye for ever to his dear friend Haydn, who went with Salomon to England. He was sore distressed. The position of second Kapellmeister was refused him, and the position of assistant to Hoffmann, the cathedral Kapellmeister, which was granted by the magistrates at his request, "without pay for the present," depended upon the death of Hoffmann, who outlived him. In the midst of his troubles he fell in with strange company, and among his associates was Emanuel Johann Schikaneder, a wandering theatre director, poet, composer, and play-actor. Restless, a bore, vain, improvident, and yet shrewd, he was not without good qualities that had before this won him the friendship of Mozart. In 1791 he was sorely embarrassed. He was the director of the Auf der Wieden, a little theatre, no better than a booth, where comic operas were played and sung. On the verge of failure, he had one thing to console him,--a fairy drama which he had made out of "Lulu, or the Enchanted Flute," a story by Wieland. He asked Mozart to write the music for it; and Mozart, pleased with the _scenario_, accepted, and said, "If I do not bring you out of your trouble, and if the work is not successful, you must not blame me; for I have never written magic music." Schikaneder knew the ease with which Mozart wrote; and he also knew that it was necessary to keep watch over him, that he might be ready at the appointed time. As Mozart's wife was then in Baden, the director found the composer alone, and he put him in a little pavilion, which was in the midst of a garden near his theatre. And in this pavilion and in a room of the casino of Josephdorf the music of "The Magic Flute" was written. Mozart was in a melancholy mood when he began his task, but Schikaneder drove away his doleful dumps by surrounding him with the gay members of the company. There was merry eating, there was clinking of glasses, there was the laughter of women. Here is the origin of many of the exaggerated stories concerning Mozart's dissipated habits. It was long believed that he was then inspired by the melting eyes of the actress Gerl; a story that probably rests on no better foundation than the Mrs. Hofdaemmel tragedy, which even Jahn thought worthy of his attention. "The Magic Flute" was given Sep. 30, at the Auf der Wieden theatre. The composer led the first two performances. The opera at first disappointed the expectations of the hearers, and Mozart was cut to the quick. The opera soon became the fashion, thanks to Schikaneder's obstinacy, so that the two hundredth representation was celebrated in Vienna in October, 1795. It was translated into Dutch, Swedish, Danish, Polish, Italian. It was given in Paris in 1801, under the name of "The Mysteries of Isis"; it was first heard in London in 1811, in Italian.

One evening in July a strange man called on Mozart with a strange errand. He was tall, gaunt, haggard in face, solemn in demeanor: a fantastic apparition, dressed completely in grey, or, as some affirm in black; such a character as might have appeared to Hoffmann when in the black and dark night, surrounded by spirits of his own conjuring, he wrote wild tales. The visitor gravely handed him an anonymous letter sealed in black, which begged him to write a Requiem as soon as possible, and asked the price. Mozart named 50 ducats, some say 100; the visitor paid the sum, and as Mozart did not name the time for the completion of the work, the unknown man left him, saying, "I shall return, when it is time." The mystery has been solved. The stranger was Leutgeb, the steward of Count Franz von Walsegg of Stuppach; the Count was in the habit of ordering thus mysteriously compositions from different musicians; he would copy them and have them performed as his own; the requiem was ordered in memory of his late wife; and it was sung as Walsegg's work under his direction Dec. 14, 1793. But Mozart knew nothing of the patron or the steward, and he grew superstitious. In the middle of August he received a commission to write a festival opera for the celebration of the coronation of Leopold II. as King of Bohemia in Prague. The subject was Metastasio's "Clemenza di Tito." The music was written hurriedly and first performed Sept. 6. It was not successful; the Empress is said to have spoken bitterly concerning the _porcheria_ of German music. Just as he was stepping into the carriage for his journey to Prague, the thin and haggard man suddenly appeared and asked him what would become of the Requiem. Mozart made his excuses. "When will you be ready?" said Leutgeb. "I swear that I shall work on it unceasingly when I return." "Good," said the solemn stranger, "I rely on your promise." And as soon as the "Magic Flute" was completed and performed Mozart worked eagerly on the Requiem. He postponed his lessons, giving as an excuse that he had a work on hand which lay very near his heart, and until it was finished he could think of nothing else. He had become subject to fainting fits, and in Prague he was not at all well. He became gloomy and superstitious. He thought some one had poisoned him, and indeed, for a long time it was believed foolishly by some that Salieri had hastened his death. He told Constanze that he was writing the Requiem for himself. There was a slight improvement for a time, and Mozart worked on the Requiem, which had been taken away from him, and finished a Masonic cantata. The last of November his feet and hands began to swell; he vomited violently; and he was melancholy in mind. The 28th his condition was critical and his doctor consulted with the chief physician at the hospital. The "Magic Flute" was now successful; he was certain of an annual income of one thousand florins contributed by some of the Hungarian nobility; and of a larger sum each year from Amsterdam in return for the production of a few compositions exclusively for the subscribers; but it was too late. The day before his death he said to Constanze, "I should like to have heard my 'Magic Flute' once more," and he hummed feebly the bird-catcher's song. In the afternoon he had the Requiem brought to his bed, and he sang the alto part. At the first measures of the "Lacrimosa," he wept violently and laid the score aside. Mrs. Haible came in the evening and Mozart said, "I am glad you are here; stay with me to-night, and see me die." She tried to reason with him, and he answered. "I have the flavor of death on my tongue: I taste death. Who will support my dearest Constanze if you do not stay with her?" The story of his ending as told by Otto Jahn is most pathetic. Mrs. Haible went to the priests of St. Peter's and begged that one might be sent to Mozart, as if by chance. They refused for a long time, and it was with difficulty she persuaded "these clerical barbarians" to grant her request. When she returned, she found Süssmayer at Mozart's bedside, in earnest conversation over the Requiem. "Did I not say that I was writing the Requiem for myself?" said he looking at it through his tears. "And he was so convinced of his approaching death that he enjoined his wife to inform Albrechtsberger of it before it became generally known, in order that he might secure Mozart's place at the Stephanskirche, which belonged to him by every right." The physician finally came; he was found in the theatre, where he waited until the curtain fell. He saw there was no hope; cold bandages were applied to the head; and then came delirium and unconsciousness. Mozart was busy with his Requiem. He blew out his cheeks to imitate the trumpets and the drums. About midnight he raised himself, opened his eyes wide, then seemed to fall asleep. He died at one o'clock, Dec. 5th. There was but little money in the house. The funeral expenses (third-class) amounted to 8 fl., 36 kr., and there was an extra charge of three florins for the hearse. In the afternoon of the 6th the body was blessed. There was a fierce storm raging, and no one accompanied the body to the grave. The body was put into a common vault, which was dug up about every ten years. No stone was put above his resting-place, and no man knows his grave. Constanze was left with two children and about sixty florins ready money. The outstanding accounts and personal property hardly amounted to five hundred florins. There were debts to be paid. She gave a concert, and with the assistance of the Emperor the proceeds were sufficient to pay them. In 1809 she married George Nissen and was comfortable until 1842, the year of her death. Karl, the elder son of Mozart, pianist-merchant, died in Milan in a subordinate official position. Wolfgang, born July 26, 1791, appeared in public in 1805; he afterward was a musical director and composer in Lemberg and Vienna; he died in Carlsbad in 1844. A statue was erected to Mozart in Salzburg in 1842, and one was raised in Vienna in 1859. The hundredth anniversary of his birth was celebrated throughout Germany, and that of his death throughout the world.