Mozart's Sister

by Nancy Moser

  I returned to my chair, my heart lighter for his vow.

  “In fact …” Papa began. “Concerning the birth of your child … I want to be present for that blessed event”

  “I would love to have you there.”

  Papa shook his head. “Not there. Here. I want you here in Salzburg for the birth.”

  I liked the sound of that. But … “Johann will never agree.”

  “He must. He’s lost two wives during childbirth in St. Gilgen. I will insist you be here, in this house, where medical help is readily available. How can he argue?”

  Indeed.

  Papa stood. “In fact, I will talk to him this evening. We must get it settled before you return home.” He looked down at me. “Or would you rather talk to your husband?”

  “No, no, Papa. You do it. I would be greatly relieved if you did.”

  “Then it’s settled.”

  I breathed easier. Papa would take care of everything.

  On July 27, 1785, my son Leopold Alois Panteleon was bornon St. Panteleon’s Dayat eleven fifty-five in the morning. By five, Papa had taken him to be christened and had become his godfather.

  Johann was not present for the birth. He was too busy. But in the five weeks I stayed in my father’s house, he and the children did cone visit. The oldest four children looked at Leopoldl warily, for they had been through this before: another stepmother having her own child. I could almost see their minds race with questions of how this would change things. As for little Karl … I swore I could see a plan brewing as to how he might see if his new little brother would float in the lake. At age three we had already had to fish Karl out several times, once finding him on the point of death. The boy needed constant watching.

  “Do we get to keep him?” little Johann asked.

  Maria swatted him on the side of the head. “We can’t very well put him back, can we?”

  “But where will he sleep?” Wolfgang asked. “I don’t want to share a-”

  “Actually, that’s something I need to talk to your father about.” I risked a look at Johann.

  Papa turned to Therese. “Therese, please take the children out. Perhaps to the square.”

  I pitied anyone who had gone to the square for a quiet moment because it would soon be shattered by the running, yelling, and hitting presence of my children.

  I longed to take Papa’s hand, to feel his strong support in what was about to be discussed, but instead took solace in cradling dear Leopoldl.

  “What’s all this about?” Johann asked.

  “It’s about our son,” I said, stroking the baby’s cheek with a finger. “It’s about his future.”

  “It’s about his education, his well-being, and the complete fulfillment of his potential.”

  Johann backed away from both of us, his head shaking no. “You two are plotting something….”

  “Not plot-” I said.

  “Plotting is too strong a word, son-in-law. Preparing, strategizing, anticipating. These are what need to be done in order for our little Leopoldl to thrive.”

  Johann looked at Papa, then at me, then at Papa again. “I suppose I have no choice but to listen.”

  As much as I was glad for Papa’s presence, I had to be the one to say it. “I want Leopoldl to stay here with Papa”

  Johann stared at me as if he had not heard. Then he blinked. “Stay? Here?”

  “Exactly,” Papa said. “Nannerl has her hands full in St. Gilgen with the other children and the household. And you yourself must admit that the opportunities for a proper education are very limited there. As a university graduate you share my own love of knowledge.”

  Johann shared no such love….

  “You could visit as often as you’d like, and after the boy gets older, I would come to visit you. Plus …” Papa approached the baby and curled the boy’s tiny fingers around one of his own. “Do you see these long fingers? These are the fingers of a musician.” He kissed his namesake’s hand, then stood. “I will fill the boy’s life with music, just as I did with my own two children. And with my help and guidance, another prodigy can be molded.”

  “Maybe he won’t like music.”

  Papa looked shocked. “Of course he’ll like music. If a child is exposed to the good earth, he comes to love the good earth. If he is exposed to the process of numbers, he becomes good with numbers. And if he is exposed to music, he loves music.” He spread his arms as if there were no argument. “It is a proven fact.”

  I did not know if Papa spoke the truth but I appreciated his argument. Johann was a man of facts, not emotion.

  But then for good measure, Papa added a bit of emotion too. “Besides, you will be doing me a favor. I am alone here. My pupils are few My job is not as fulfilling as it once was. I need a reason to live and enjoy life again. Little Leopoldl can be that reason.” Then he switched back to facts. “I will, of course, cover all his expenses.”

  Johann looked dumbstruck, as if he had no defense. He finally looked to me. “You agree to all this? You would be willing to leave your baby behind?”

  With difficulty I swallowed. “I would. For his own good I would do anything.”

  “And you think this is for his own good?” Johann asked.

  My voice cracked. “I know it.”

  Johann took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I cannot believe what I have just heard. Nor can I believe that I am going to agree with it.”

  We shared the silence, waiting, hoping….

  “But you are?” I asked.

  “I am.”

  Papa rushed forward and shook his hand. “You will not be sorry, Johann. This is for the best.”

  I agreed. But I held my baby closer. How could I ever let him go?

  “Nannerl, you must let go.”

  Papa stood before me, his arms extended, waiting for me to give up my son.

  I knew this was the right decision. I’d thought long and hard about it; I’d prayed about it. But for the time to be now … Too soon, too soon.

  Johann stepped forward, his face a storm cloud. “Nannerl! We have to go. I must be back at work tomorrow. The children are already in the carriage.”

  I looked at the carriage, which was rocking wildly. I did not want to enter its domain and endure six hours of bedlam. I wished to stay here and lie on my old bed with my baby cooing and kicking beside me. I’d sing him the songs Mama had sung to me. I’d be the one at his side when he pressed his first ivory key on the pianoforte. I’d see his face light up as he realized the cause and effect of his action. See, my love? That’s music. And it can be yours. It will be yours.

  Karl screamed. Maria popped her head out of the carriage. “Mania! Karl bit Wolfgang. Please come help.”

  Mother. Help. These other children-my other childrenneeded me. They had never been offered the opportunity of a life full of learning, music, caring friends, and social graces. They were living the consequences of such deficiencies. Perhaps with continued hard work I could break through their pasts and give them some semblance of a good future.

  Perhaps.

  But in order to do that, and in order to assure this new child received the best the world could offer, I had to give him up. Like the two women arguing over the same baby in front of King Solomon, I had to prove myself the true mother by being willing to give him up for his own good. I had to love him more than myself.

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears, kissed his tiny head, and handed him to my father. “Love him for me, Papa”

  I hurried to the carriage and climbed inside.

  For his own good. For his own good. For his own good.

  I read the letter from Papa, then sucked in a breath. “He’s sick! Leopoldl is sick!”

  Johann looked up from his reading. “Apparently your father’s care is not superior to ours after all.”

  My defenses rose into what had become a familiar position. “He says it’s thrush. He has the doctor coming over twice a day. He’s sparing no expense.


  Johann turned the page.

  I brought the letter to him and placed it on top of his book. “Look. See the steps he’s taking to make our son well again?”

  Johann offered the letter the most cursory glance before handing it back to me. “Then you have no worries.”

  “Of course I have worries! Leopoldl could die. Papa can only do so much. He is not God.”

  For the first time my husband offered me his full attention. He removed his reading glasses. “I know that, and you know that. But perhaps it is time he knows that.”

  “This is not the time to discuss your opinion of my father.”

  “Who has plenty of his own opinions about himself and everything else.”

  I was weary of our frequent arguing. “I want to see him,” I said.

  With slow deliberation Johann shook his head and pointed at the window, at the snow blowing outside. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I heard a crash from the boys’ room. Karl screamed. He always screamed.

  Johann put his glasses back on and went back to his reading.

  I left the room to attend to some of my children while worrying about the other. I managed a prayer in the process. Only God could help my son.

  Only God and Papa.

  I was sick to death of sickness.

  Only through the tireless efforts of my father was my baby boy treated to the best science had to offer. And the best a grandparent had to offer. Papa, unlike a lot of men I knew, did not shun sickrooms but availed himself completely of the entire process-from doctor to treatment to prayer. Barring none of the expense. Perhaps this was done because he still harbored regrets about the lack of treatment that had led to Mama’s passing.

  I received added comfort knowing that dear Franz was paying daily visits to the house, checking on my boy. Papa said he’d taken a large interest in Leopoldl, and the baby knew him and responded to his presence with joy.

  Knowing that the two most important men in my life were caring for my little man made it possible for me to remain in St. Gilgen. If there would have been any doubt as to the care my dear son was receiving, I would have dug a tunnel through the snow-clogged pass to get to him.

  Not that I was well myself. Since Leopoldl’s birth, my womanly system had not returned to normal. I felt pressure in my chest and often suffered flashes of heat that overwhelmed my body. I feared getting a feverish illness like that which had killed Mama. And though Johann brushed aside my symptoms as trivial, I knew things weren’t right. I also knew that treating any sickness at an early stage was vital.

  Only Papa listened to my travails and sent advice from Salzburg doctors. They gave me a detailed regimen of foods that would not increase the heat of my body, self-tests regarding the color of my urine, and prescribed medicines, bloodletting, and exercises to be undertaken at very specific times.

  I feared I was pregnant. I prayed for such a blessing-eventually-but also prayed that God would be merciful in His timing. Not now, please. Not now

  And then Papa got sick. Although he’d suffered the usual aches and pains that were the normal accompaniment to a man of sixtyseven years, when one of his good friends died after a short illness that the doctors had proclaimed was “nothing serious,” Papa’s letters became peppered with complaints of chest pains and pounding in his ears, as well as details regarding his preparations to meet God. His goal was to die well and at peace. In short, he did not want to spend his remaining time worried about debts and Wolfie.

  But how could he help it? Doctors and medicines cost money, and the two extra servants he’d hired to help take care of my son cost more money. To top off his worries, Wolfie seemed unconcerned and offered no help whatsoever. Although at Eastertime of the previous year Papa had declared that Wolfie had two thousand florins in his possession, it was apparent by my brother’s infrequent letters that he had none of that treasure now The news from acquaintances was that Wolfie and Constanze were currently moving into more economical accommodations.

  Yet he was still celebrating some musical success. We’d heard his opera Le Nozze di Figaro-The Marriage ofFigaro had been acclaimed in Prague, and he had another commission for one called Don Giovanni. But it was also clear that whatever florins touched my brother’s upraised palms were quickly tossed to the wind of past debts. And future ones too.

  And then there was talk from Wolfie about leaving Vienna and going to England. The grass was always greener…. Papa was totally against it and detailed a dozen reasons why Wolfie should stay put and capitalize on the contacts he’d made in Vienna. Besides, according to Papa, to undertake such a journey, Wolfie should have those two thousand florins in his pocket for expenses.

  All this to say, Wolfie had all but forgotten us. Since he’d left us to go to Vienna five years earlier he had not sent a single florin our way-in spite of his lofty words to do otherwise. It was hurtful after all Papa had done for him. I was married now I was secure-at least financially-but I feared for Papa’s worries and how they affected his health. The fact Papa took some money from my husband revealed much about the true state of his affairs.

  I offered to take Leopoldl from his care to ease his burden, but he would hear none of it. The boy was the one light in his dim life. How could I possibly take that away from him?

  And then our little Joseph got sick with a falling sickness. He’d suddenly collapse and gyrate horribly. Then the oldest boy, Wolfgang, got sick, and his joints swelled and ached so he could not flex them. The only ray of hope in this aura of dismay was that Maria unexpectedly revealed an aptitude for caring for the sick. Perhaps book learning wasn’t everything…. I don’t know what I would have done without her.

  In mid-March she would be sorely tested, because I left her behind in order to make a trip to be with Papa. His health had deteriorated, and I could not in good conscience stay away. So when the sunny spring days led to an opening in the pass, I left St. Gilgen and made my way to Salzburg.

  Papa was very ill. He had swollen feet that prevented him from taking care of his namesake, and he had inner pain that the doctor was treating with a plaster. When I first walked in the room, he looked up at me, all thin and pale, and said, “You came”

  It was then I knew the pain of his physical illness was only part of the problem.

  I immediately set to work helping and comforting as I could. The fact I was also in the presence of my dear baby boy … He was twenty months old. Although Papa had kept me abreast of his progress through letters, I had seen him only a few times since his birth. I blame Johann for the dearth in visits. He always had some excuse as to why we couldn’t go. Papa had sent me many a scathing letter regarding my husband’s overblown sense of worth. As if St. Gilgen couldn’t get along without him so he could go visit his soil….

  Leopoldl was a cheery toddler. A busy toddler. If only he would have let me hold him for more than a few seconds at a time. I hoped his hesitance was due to his age and not the fact he did not know me. He spoke a few words I could understand-and many that I couldn’t. He loved playing with his toy horses and would sing to music. Leopoldl often sat on Papa’s knee at the keyboard, and Papa would let him explore the keys-but he would not let him pound. Papa was already teaching him to treat the keys with the respect they deserved.

  During the evening of the first day I was home I had the most pleasant surprise. Franz stopped by for his daily visit. At the sight of him, Leopoldl raced across the room and Franz scooped him up in his arms, kissing his cheeks and making him giggle. The happy scene made my heart ache for the lack of such scenes in my St. Gilgen household.

  Only after the baby was settled onto his hip did Franz look in my direction. He removed his hat and bowed with flourish. “Welcome, Nan. How we have longed for your company.”

  We exchanged kisses to our cheeks. His were flushed with pleasure and health. I feared for my own appearance. Life had been hard of late….

  “Kiss your mother’s hand, little Leo.”

  At Franz’s direction, I held o
ut my hand and Leopoldl gave it a slobbery kiss.

  “He’s going to be a lady’s man,” Franz said. “A blue-eyed charmer.”

  “Like his uncle Franz?” I asked.

  Franz’s eyes met mine, then looked back to the baby. “I’m afraid I have neither the time, the inclination, nor the capability of spirit for such things. A heart once given … that’s all I have within me.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d wanted Franz to find someone to love, but I also reveled in the news he was still single. Oh, the sins of a greedy heart.

  The bells for Ave Maria sounded outside, and at their ringing my dear baby closed his eyes, bowed his head, and placed his hands in the position of prayer. Franz did the same, and the momentary sight of their two bowed heads, just inches away from each-

  “Amen,” Franz said, looking up.

  “Am-m,” Leopoldl said.

  Franz gave him a hug. “You are such a good boy.” He let him down, and Leopoldl tried to run out of the room but ended up in the arms of his nursemaid.

  “Bedtime, young master.”

  “No!” Leopoldl’s head shook with a vehemence that made his curls bounce and swing.

  “He seems to have learned that word well,” I said.

  “Very well indeed” came Papa’s voice from the hall. He stood in his dressing gown and slippers.

  “Should you be out of bed?” I asked.

  His next words were said to me, but his eyes were locked on my son. As was his smile. “I have no choice. For who else can get this little munchkin into bed but his grandpapa?” With arms extended, he took a step toward the boy, who squealed and ran behind Franz’s legs.

  “Oh no you don’t, little one,” Franz said, plucking him up and placing him in Papa’s arms. Leopoldl immediately strained for Franz to save him, his eyes and whiny voice doing a good job of melting my defenses. I was all for letting him stay up.

  But Papa and Franz obviously had the process perfected. Franz picked up his hat. “I must go or you-know-who will never succumb to b-e-d.”

  “Uhh-uhh!” Leopoldl said.

  Franz kissed his fingers and blew the boy a final kiss. “Tomorrow, little one. I’ll come earlier tomorrow and we’ll play with your blocks.” With a bow Franz said, “I’ll see myself out.”