by Glover, Jane
The sweetness of this account must have touched Maria Anna considerably, for she only received increasingly acerbic letters from her husband. (Colloredo had indeed decided to come to Munich, greatly to Leopold’s displeasure.) By February he claimed that he was ‘really tired out’ from all the restless activity that Nannerl was enjoying so much, and he was longing for Carnival to be over. For all its success, La finta giardiniera had not brought Wolfgang any appointment in Munich, and Leopold was beginning to feel familiarly resigned. As their return journey approached, he sent his usual cool catalogue of commands to his wife, so that she might prepare the house to his instruction.
FOR TWO AND a half years after the return from Munich, all the members of the Mozart family stayed in Salzburg. It was their longest period of uninterrupted time together since their Grand Tour; and indeed it was to be their last. Nannerl as usual kept her diary,87 and its surviving pages for these years are the greatest source of information on family life in the Tanzmeisterhaus. As in her few surviving letters, she was reluctant ever to express her feelings (unlike her father and brother, and to a lesser extent her mother). Nannerl was a chronicler of facts, a reporter of events, a keeper of lists and statistics. But for all their tantalizing inarticulacy of emotion, her diaries do shed fascinating light on middle-class life in mid-1770s Salzburg.
Nannerl recorded her daily attendance at early Mass, her teaching, visits the family made and received, walks they took around the neighbourhood (with or without their fox terrier Bimperl), the games they played of cards or Bölzlschiessen, and the weather. She reported major public events, including the comings and goings of the Archbishop and some of his visitors (among them, arrestingly, the ‘equerry of the King of England, Herr v. Eyerer [Ayre?] . . . with his wife and a travelling companion’ – was this someone with whom she might have recalled her own meetings with George III just over a decade earlier?). There were parades and processions, various community deaths, Mass compositions in a number of different churches. And there were more exotic events, such as the arrival of an elephant (which Nannerl had trouble spelling: ‘[Elopfant] Elephant’) and its subsequent departure twelve days later. She mentioned over 170 individuals. Among the Mozarts’ close family friends were the Gilowskys (Johann Wenzel Andreas was the Court surgeon, and his children Katherl and Franz Xavier Wenzel were the same ages as Nannerl and Wolfgang), the Barisanis (another family of physicians), the Robinigs, two of whom had accompanied Nannerl to Munich for La finta giardiniera, and the Abbé Bullinger, a Jesuit teacher to aristocratic families in Salzburg. Nannerl named some of the musicians at Court, including the oboist/cellist Fiala, and the trumpeter Schachtner, whose instrument had so frightened Wolfgang as a child, but who would in due course collaborate with him on a theatrical project, Zaïde, K344 (336b). There were many passing references to ‘Papa’ and her ‘bruder’, and indeed to Bimperl. She never mentioned her mother at all.
Wolfgang frequently hijacked Nannerl’s diary and made entries of his own. His contributions are always fascinating, with occasional comments on performers (‘frightful ass!’ [ershröcklicher esel!] for a violinist), and little fantasias on Nannerl’s themes. He wrote with the same shared conspiratorial humour, often lavatorial, of his Italian letters to her, sending her up, inventing new and often ambiguous words, continuing, in fact, their entirely normal sibling relationship. But there was virtually no reference from either of them to his own composition in those years, which in fact was plentiful and increasingly miraculous, nor to their music-making together.
One name that Nannerl did not enter into her diary was that of Josefa Duschek; but she would unquestionably have made her mark on the entire Mozart family. The young Czech soprano had recently married her teacher, Franz Xavier Duschek, and was in Salzburg with her new husband to visit her grandfather. The Mozarts probably met the Duscheks through their old landlord and friend, Johann Lorenz Hagenauer, whose wife was Josefa’s grandfather’s half-sister. Wolfgang was excited to meet a singer with a broader view of theatrical life than those employed at Court in Salzburg. He wrote an extensive concert scena for her, ‘Ah, lo previdi’, K272, to a text from Cigna-Santi’s Andromeda. The versatility of Josefa’s artistry is reflected in Wolfgang’s flamboyant treatment of accompanied recitative, followed by a brisk aria and a concluding cavatina with a beguiling solo oboe – almost as if he were flexing his operatic muscles in a town where there was barely any theatre. He and Josefa Duschek were to meet again in Prague, ten years later, and the two families would remain emotionally, if not geographically, close.
But apart from the Duschek scena, most of Wolfgang’s composition in the Salzburg years was instrumental rather than vocal. These were the years of symphonies, divertimentos and serenades, of his major violin concertos, possibly even to be performed by his father; and it was also the time when he laid the formidable foundations for a genre of composition that was to become highly significant for him, the piano concerto. Later these concertos would be performed by himself, but in the Salzburg years they seemed often to be composed for women, including of course his sister. Early in 1776 he wrote two of them, those in B flat, K238, and in C, K246, the latter for Archbishop Colloredo’s niece, the Countess Lutzow, who had recently arrived in Salzburg and was a gifted pianist. He also wrote his concerto for three pianos, K242, for Countess Lodron and her two teenage daughters, who would shortly become Leopold’s pupils (as indeed their younger sisters would in due course become Nannerl’s pupils). And then he received a commission for another concerto from an old friend. Victoire Jenamy was the daughter of the celebrated French-Swiss dancer and choreographer Jean-Georges Noverre, whom Wolfgang and Leopold had met in Milan at the wedding of the Archduke Ferdinand in 1771, and again later in Vienna in 1773. For the gifted ‘Mademoiselle Jenomy’ (or ‘Genomai’, or ‘Jeunehomme’, as she has successively been labelled) Wolfgang wrote his first truly extraordinary piano concerto, that in E flat, K271. With its dazzling dialogue between piano and orchestra initiated in the very opening bars of the first movement, its utterly sublime slow movement, and its finale interrupted by an extra minuet – a tribute perhaps to the profession of Mademoiselle Jenamy’s father – Wolfgang made another leap within his unique world of originality and invention. Staying in the key of E flat, he also wrote his concerto for two pianos, K365 (316a), probably for himself and Nannerl, their natural duetting partnership now happily extended to embrace an orchestra too.
Enjoyable and productive though this time was, Wolfgang clearly felt completely stifled by the restrictions of his Salzburg employment. The memory of his glittering childhood triumphs was always there to frustrate and tantalize him, and he longed for greater challenges in wider circles. In desperation he wrote to Padre Martini in Bologna. He told him of his recent success in Munich with La finta giardiniera, and also of the motet he had written for the Elector; and he sent Martini a copy of it, asking for his comments (‘I beg you most earnestly to tell me, frankly and without reserve, what you think of it’88). But the main purpose of the letter was really to alert Martini to the fact that he was still on the lookout for a job. He went on, ‘Oh how often have I longed to be near you, most Reverend Father, so that I might be able to talk to you and have discussions with you. For I live in a country where music leads a struggling existence,’ and so on, complaining about the state of music in Salzburg, where there was no theatre, where his father had ‘served this Court for thirty-six years and knows that the present archbishop cannot and will not have anything to do with people who are getting on in years’, and finally sending his ‘devoted remembrances to all the members of the Accademia Filarmonica’ and especially to Martini himself, ‘that one person in the world whom I love, revere and esteem most of all’.
This letter was written in Italian, and in Leopold’s hand, and surely was the work of Leopold himself. The glowing reference to Leopold’s own selfless service of Salzburg (ignoring of course the many years that he was absent from it), and the general uncomfortable blend of d
iscontent and obsequious flattery, seem to represent the style and sentiments of father rather than son. Wolfgang of course would have had no disagreement with the object of this exercise. But in fact it led nowhere, for although Martini wrote Wolfgang a marvellous reply, admiring his motet and encouraging him to continue composing, nothing more ever came of it. Martini had probably seen through the whole ruse.
The Mozarts continued to live en famille in the Tanzmeisterhaus for another year. And then they tried again. In another letter written in Leopold’s hand, Wolfgang applied to Colloredo for permission to travel. Unlike the careful flattery of the Martini letter, this petition adopted a somewhat petulant tone. It referred to previous occasions when either Leopold or Wolfgang had sought similar permission but had been turned down, and to newer obstacles which now seemed to be in their path (‘Your Grace has been pleased to raise certain objections’). So for this latest attempt, Leopold called upon not only his entire family and their security and stability as ballast to his argument, but also the Holy Gospel:
Parents endeavour to place their children in a position to earn their own bread; and in this they follow alike their own interest and that of the State. The greater the talents which children have received from God, the more they are bound to use them for the improvement of their own and their parents’ circumstances, so that they may at the same time assist them and take thought for their own future progress. The Gospel teaches us to use our talents in this way. My conscience tells me that I owe it to God to be grateful to my father, who has spent his time unwearyingly upon my education, so that I may lighten his burden, look after myself and later on be able to support my sister. For I should be sorry to think that she should have spent so many hours at the harpsichord and not be able to make good use of her training.89
The Prince Archbishop could not endure sermons from his own employees. Like the Habsburgs perhaps, he was by now heartily sick of the whole Mozart family. He kept them waiting nearly a month for his reply, but then hurled back at Leopold the very Gospel which he had so unwisely cited: ‘. . . in the name of the Gospel, father and son have my permission to seek their fortune elsewhere.’90 He had sacked them.
The Mozarts must have been thrown into total turmoil by these events. They simply could not survive without at least one salary, so Leopold swallowed an enormous amount of pride and managed to get himself reinstated. But the wording of the Archbishop’s decree leaves no doubt as to the reputation of his exceptionally troublesome employee:
To signify to the petitioner that His Grace desires that there should be real harmony amongst his musicians. In gracious confidence therefore that the petitioner will conduct himself calmly and peaceably with the Kapellmeister and other persons appointed to the court orchestra, His Grace retains him in his employment and graciously commands him to endeavour to render good service both to the Church and to His Grace’s person.91
Meanwhile, Leopold had decided that Wolfgang should indeed travel, but not alone. (He was twenty-one years old.) The family would therefore be split again, but the other way round: Maria Anna would go with her son, and Nannerl would remain in Salzburg with her father. This decision was taken and acted upon very quickly, for barely a month after Colloredo’s release, Maria Anna and Wolfgang left. They planned to return to three great cities of music, Munich, Mannheim and Paris. In one of these, surely, the young composer would find an appointment. But the trip was conceived against a background of chaos, disharmony and dismay, and was probably doomed before it began. As the day of departure loomed, Leopold fell ill; and when, early on the morning of 23 September 1777, the travellers’ carriage trundled away from the Tanzmeisterhaus, Nannerl too collapsed completely. Leopold described the bleakness and misery of that ‘dreadful day’ in his first letter to his wife and son.
After you both had left, I walked up our steps very wearily and threw myself down on a chair. When we said goodbye, I made great efforts to control 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 driving out through the gate and so came to the conclusion that you were gone already, as I had sat for a long time without thinking of anything. Nannerl wept bitterly and I had to use every effort to console her. She complained of a headache and a sick stomach and in the end she retched and vomited; and putting a cloth round her head she went off to bed and had the shutters closed. Poor Bimbes [the dog] lay down beside her. For my own part, I went to my room and said my morning prayers. I then lay down on my bed at half past eight and read a book and thus becoming calmer fell asleep. The dog came to my bedside and I awoke. As she made signs to me to take her for a run, I gathered it must be nearly noon and that she wanted to be let out. I got up, took my fur cloak and saw that Nannerl was fast asleep. The clock then showed half past twelve. When I came in with the dog, I woke Nannerl and ordered lunch. But she had no appetite, she would eat nothing and went to bed immediately afterwards, so that . . . I passed the time lying on my bed, praying and reading. In the evening she felt better and was hungry. We played piquet and then had supper in my room. After that we played a few more games and, with God’s blessing, went off to bed. That is how we spent that sad day which I thought I would never have to face.’92
One almost feels sorry for him.
IN CONTRAST TO the desolation in the Tanzmeisterhaus, the travellers were in very good humour. For years Maria Anna had been longing to journey again with Wolfgang, and now her turn really had come. For all that she hated leaving her husband and daughter, she probably felt perfectly equal to any task ahead. Her childhood had been shot through with hardship and deprivation, but in adulthood she had taken care of her elderly mother, raised a young family, and cared for them over three and a half years of peregrination. She had kept house, done the cooking, and dealt with near-fatal illnesses in strange cities. So she was practical, level-headed and experienced; and she adored her brilliant son, in whom she had total confidence. She probably imagined that he would be offered some glorious post within a very short period, and that her family would soon be reunited. On 26 September she wrote cheerfully to her husband from Munich, ‘Thank God, we are in good trim and only wish that you were with us, which, with God’s help, will happen some day. Meanwhile, do not worry, and shake off all your troubles. Everything will come right in the end, when the hooks and eyes have been put on. We lead a most charming life – up early – late to bed, and visitors all day long. Addio ben mio.’93
And, without question, Wolfgang himself was thrilled to have got away from Salzburg. ‘I am always in my best spirits,’ he wrote, ‘for my heart has been as light as a feather ever since I got away from all that humbug.’94 He too was confident about dealing with all the practicalities of travel, reassuring his father, ‘I am quite a second Papa, for I see to everything. I have begged Mamma to let me pay the postilions, for I can deal with these fellows better than she can.’95 And the high spirits of both mother and son were reflected in the affectionate language with which they signed off their early letters. Wolfgang referred repeatedly to his ‘brute of a sister’. And Maria Anna reached into the family’s customary lexicon of lavatorial catchphrase, to cheer her gloomy husband: ‘Keep well, my love. Shove your arse into your mouth. I wish you goodnight, my dear, but first shit in your bed and break it.’96
Eventually Nannerl began to pull herself together, and by 29 September, less than a week after the travellers’ departure, she bravely tried to reply to their chirpy letters in the same vein. (She was actually twenty-six years old, but her letter reads like one from a kid sister.)
I am delighted to hear that Mamma and Jack Pudding are cheerful and in good spirits. Alas, we poor orphans have to mope for boredom and fiddle away the time somehow or other. That reminds me, Bimperl, please be so good as to send me soon a short pre-ambulum. But write one this time from C into B flat, so that I may gradually learn it by heart.
I have no news to
send you from home. So I kiss Mamma’s hands and to you, you rascal! you villain! I give a juicy kiss and I remain Mamma’s obedient daughter and your sister who is living in hopes – MARIE ANNE MOZART
Miss Pimpes too is living in hopes, for she stands or sits at the door whole half-hours on end and thinks every minute you are going to come. All the same she is quite well, eats, drinks, sleeps, shits and pisses.’97
When she heard that they were well received in Munich but could see little prospect of permanent employment, Nannerl seconded her father’s advice to them to move on to Mannheim (perhaps at his instruction?) with a postscript of touching certainty in her brother: ‘It would do us far more honour if you could succeed in obtaining a post under some other great lord. You will surely find one.’98 In her mother’s absence she was now responsible for the running of the household, not without some tense little domestic scenes, apparently, as Leopold rather glowingly reported:
Our maid Thresel finds it extraordinarily funny that Nannerl should be for ever poking her nose into the kitchen and scolding her daily about its dirty condition. For Nannerl does not overlook the least thing; and when Thresel tells a lie, Nannerl at once points out to her that it is an untruth. In short, Thresel’s eyes are getting wider and wider, for Nannerl says everything to her without mincing matters, though indeed she becomes quite calm again after it is all over.’99