Rest In Peace

      Mozart passed away in his home 222 years ago today, December 5, 1791, leaving behind his wife, two sons and an unfinished Requiem Mass that would come to be known as one of the most incredible compositions in the history of classical music. Perhaps the reason why the Requiem is so haunting is because Mozart believed he was writing it for himself.
      Earlier that year, a man in gray had come to Mozart's door commissioning a Requiem Mass without giving a name. Later, it was discovered that the message had come from Count Walsegg, a young man Mozart never knew who had recently lost his wife and planned to pass the composition off as his own.
      The day of his death, Mozart shared with his friends his feelings on composing the Requiem: "Did I not tell you I was composing this Requiem for myself?"
      Mozart died at age 35, not two months before his birthday, almost completing the Lacrimosa, perhaps the saddest and most beautiful movement in the entire piece. The Requiem was completed according to his instructions by his student, Franz Xaver Süßmayr.
      Mozart once said of death in a letter to his father in 1787:

"I have made it a habit in all things to imagine the worst. Inasmuch as, strictly speaking, death is the real aim of our life, I have for the past few years made myself acquainted with this true, best friend of mankind, so that the vision not only has no terror for me but much that is quieting and comforting. And I thank my God that He gave me the happiness and the opportunity (you understand me) to learn to know Him as the key to true blessedness."

     May Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart rest in peace!

Mozart the Patriot

     Happy Independence Day! Although Mozart was not American, he was very much devoted to his own country and people. I thought that today would be a fitting day to share a bit of his patriotism.
     In a letter to his father, written on November 24, 1781, Mozart speaks of a concert he had recently given:

The two of us played a sonata [K. 381] that I had composed for the occasion, and which had a success. This sonata I shall send you by Herr von Daubrawaick, who said that he would feel proud to have it in his trunk; his son, who is a Salzburger, told me this. When the father went he said, quite loud, "I am proud to be your countryman. You are doing great honor to Salzburg; I hope that times will so change that we can have you amongst us, and then do not forget me." I answered: "My fatherland has always the first claim on me."

     Although German culture was not dominant during his time, Mozart nevertheless felt such a great sense of duty to and pride for his country, which he honored through his music. In a letter to his father, written on May 29, 1778 in Paris, he said:

Frequently I fall into a mood of complete listlessness and indifference; nothing gives me great pleasure. The most stimulating and encouraging thought is that you, dearest father, and my dear sister, are well, that I am an honest German, and that if I am not always permitted to talk I can think what I please; but that is all.

     No doubt Mozart's intense love for his country inspired some of his finest works and helped him to always strive to be the best musician he possibly could.

Requiem Mass (Though Not For Me, As You May Have Thought)

     Well, it is interesting to see how summer work and a boatload of schoolwork can affect my opportunity to post even a small entry! But I finally have something worthwhile to write about!

The Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra warming up before the concert.
The choir still had yet to come out!
(The picture isn't very clear; it was taken with my phone)

     This past October, I had the exciting and amazing opportunity to see the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra give an outstanding performance of the Requiem Mass in D Minor (K. 626). This was the first time I had ever heard a real, professional symphony orchestra perform any classical masterpiece live. Of all pieces, they performed one of my all time favorites, the Requiem Mass!
     This was only part of the excitement, however. The advertisement I had read for the performance stated that actor John Lithgow would be reading excerpts of poetry and letters written by Mozart. Naturally, I was very excited to see a famous actor live. Then, while waiting for the concert to begin, I discovered in the program that Mr. Lithgow would not be there that night...instead, it was F. Murray Abraham (winner of the Oscar for his performance as Antonio Salieri in the film Amadeus) whom they were featuring! I just about jumped out of my seat. The star of my favorite movie of all time was there that night, reading letters from Mozart during the Requiem Mass! Needless to say, Mr. Abraham did not disappoint.

F. Murray Abraham as Salieri (L) and as himself (R)

     Before the Requiem Mass, the PSO treated us to a stellar performance of Beethoven's violin concerto, featuring Noah Bendix-Balgley. It was so amazing! What more can I say? How can I really describe with words a night filled with Beethoven and Mozart? (Of course, there are no words!)
     One of the most amazing parts of the evening was the end of the Requiem--after the last movement ended, the concert hall faded to complete darkness and a bell tolled in remembrance of one of the greatest composers of all time. Slowly, the lights faded back on, and at that moment, the entire hall erupted into a chorus of emphatic cheers.
     There is nothing quite like being surrounded by Mozart's emotional, deeply moving sacred music. This day will forever be one of my most cherished memories. A special thanks to Dave for this wonderful, unforgettable day!

Mozart Goodies

Goodness, it has been nearly a month since I have last written. Life seems to be whizzing by while my poor blog sits here alone and forgotten. To make up for the time it has taken me to write, I will share my new upload of the Coronation Mass, K. 317, written in 1779, along with some quotes about Mozart and a letter excerpt to brighten up the day. Enjoy!

In Bach, Beethoven and Wagner we admire principally the depth and energy of the human mind; in Mozart, the divine instinct.   - Edvard Grieg

Mozart's music is free of all exaggeration, of all sharp breaks and contradictions.  The sun shines but does not blind, does not burn or consume.  Heaven arches over the earth, but it does not weigh it down, it does not crush or devour it.    - Karl Barth

It is hard to think of another composer who so perfectly marries form and passion.    - Leonard Bernstein

What a picture of a better world you have given us, Mozart!   - Franz Schubert

W. A. Mozart - Krönungsmesse in C Major, K. 317

It seems here that Mozart learned a form of sign language. He writes to his sister Nannerl at the age of 15:

Milan, August 31, 1771.
My Dearest Sister,--
We are quite well, thank God! I have been eating quantities of fine pears, peaches, and melons in your place. My greatest amusement is to talk by signs to the dumb, which I can do to perfection. Herr Hasse [the celebrated opera composer] arrived here yesterday, and to-day we are going to pay him a visit. We only received the book of the Serenata last Thursday. I have very little to write about. Do not, I entreat, forget about THE ONE OTHER, where no other can ever be. You understand me, I know.

Anyone who knows more on this subject, please comment with your input and knowledge!

The Great Mass in C Minor, K. 427....Now on Mozart's Music!

Ladies and gentlemen...I have now uploaded all of the movements to the unfinished masterpiece, Große Messe in c-Moll (The Great Mass in C Minor), K. 427! I posted them here as a playlist so that you can sample all of the movements in one sitting, or better yet, listen to them all through completely! Enjoy and please leave comments letting me know what you think!

Yes, I'm Still Alive.

Contrary to popular belief, I have not fallen off the planet. I am alive and well, or, as well as a busy student can be. When the school year started, so did a horrible case of writer's block. There are some topics I would like to post about in the future, but I will need to do some more research first. Until then, I figured everyone can use a good laugh throughout the day, so I posted two of some of Mozart's most humorous letters, both written to his beloved sister Nannerl.

Year: 1770
Age: 14

...I only wish that my sister were in Rome, for this town would certainly please her, as St. Peter's church and many other things in Rome are regular. The most beautiful flowers are now being carried past in the street---so Papa has just told me. I am a fool, as everyone knows. Oh, I am having a hard time, for in our rooms there is only one bed and so Mamma can well imagine that I get no sleep with Papa......I have just now drawn St. Peter with his keys and with him St. Paul with his sword and St. Luke with my sister and so forth. I have had the honor of kissing St. Peter's foot in St. Peter's church and as I have the misfortune to be so small, I, that same old dunce

Wolfgang Mozart,
had to be lifted up.

Year: 1772
Age: 16

I hope you are well, my dear sister. When you receive this letter, my dear sister, my opera will be being performed that same evening. Think of me, my dear sister, and do your best to imagine, my dear sister, that you are watching and hearing it too, my dear sister. Admittedly that is difficult, as it is already eleven o'clock; what's more, I believe beyond any doubt that during the day it is brighter than at Easter. My dear sister, tomorrow we dine at Herr von Mayer's, and why is this, do you think? Guess! Because he has invited us. Tomorrow's rehearsal is at the theater, but the impresario, Signor Castiglioni, has urged me not to say anything about it, because otherwise everybody will come rushing along, and we don't want that. So, my child, I beg you not to tell anyone anything about it. Otherwise too many people would come rushing along. That reminds me, do you know what happened here today? I'll tell you. We left Count Firmian's to go home and when we reached our street, we opened the front door and what do you suppose happened then? We went in. Goodbye, my little lung. I embrace you, my liver, and remain, my stomach, ever your unworthy brother,

Wolfgang

Please, my dear sister, something is biting me - please scratch me.

Mozart's Wedding Day

Wolfgang and Constanze were married on

August 4, 1782 in Vienna, at Saint Stephen's Cathedral.

Wolfgang and Constanze's marriage certificate.



Saint Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna.




The inside of Saint Stephen's Cathedral. 



They had a very happy marriage together. Wolfgang's letters to Constanze -- written either while he was out pursuing work, or while she was at the spa in Baden -- remain tender, loving, and even a bit silly up until the last one.

For instance, on April 13, 1789 while he was in Dresden, Wolfgang wrote a letter to Constanze and told her of all the silly things he would do with her little portrait while he was away from her:

If I were to tell you all the things that I do with your portrait, you would laugh heartily. For instance when I take it out of its prison house I say "God bless you, Stanzerl! God bless you, you little rascal, -- Krallerballer -- Sharpnose -- little Bagatelle!" And when I put it back I let it slip down slowly and gradually and say "Nu, -- Nu, -- Nu, -- Nu;" but with the emphasis which this highly significant word demands, and at the last, quickly: "Good-night, little Mouse, sleep well!" Now, I suppose, I have written down a lot of nonsense (at least so the world would think); but for us, who love each other so tenderly, it isn't altogether silly.

Then, on July 7, 1791, just five months before his death, Wolfgang wrote to his wife who was at the spa in Baden:

You can not imagine how slowly time goes when you are not with me! I can't describe the feeling; there is a sort of sense of emptiness, which hurts -- a certain longing which can not be satisfied, and hence never ends, but grows day by day. When I remember how childishly merry we were in Baden, and what mournful, tedious hours I pass here, my work gives me no pleasure, because it is not possible as was my wont, to chat a few words with you when stopping for a moment. If I go to the Clavier and sing something from the opera [Die Zauberflöte] I must stop at once because of my emotions. -- Basta!

No doubt, August 4, 1782 remained one of the happiest memories in Wolfgang and Constanze's lives.

Mozart, the Animal Lover

Mozart loved nature and animals. He kept several pets, and I thought it would be fun to write about them.

. . .

A Canary

Picture from Wikipedia

We read in a letter from 14-year-old Wolfgang to his sister Nannerl on May 19, 1770 about a little canary that the Mozarts kept. He wrote:

Write me, how is Mr. Canary? Does he still sing? Does he still pipe? Do you know why I am thinking of the canary? Because there is one in our anteroom that makes the same little sounds as ours.

. . .

A Dog

     Unfortunately, I can't seem to find much information on the dog that the Mozart family kept. Some sources say that it was a fox terrier.

     Mozart family letters refer to a "Miss Bimbes", a "Bimperl", and a "Pimperl". After much research, it sounds to me like they are all the same dog, but sometimes it's hard to tell. If I can find out any more, be assured that I will post it.

     

In a letter dated August 21, 1773 (at age 17), Mozart wrote to his sister:

How is Miss Bimbes? Please present all manner of compliments to her.

In an October 1777 letter from Leopold to 21-year-old Wolfgang (who was in France with his mother at the time), we read:

As the weather is fine, [Nannerl and I] take an early walk every day with our faithful Bimperl, who is in splendid trim and only becomes very sad and obviously most anxious when we are both out of the house, for then she thinks that because she has lost you two, she is now going to lose us as well. So when we went to the ball and she saw us masked, she refused to leave Mitzerl, and, when we got home, she was so overjoyed that I thought she would choke. Moreover, when we were out, she would not stay on her bed in the room, but remained lying on the ground outside the porter's door. She would not sleep, but kept on moaning, wondering, I suppose, whether we should ever return.

Then, while Mozart was writing and rehearsing Idomoneo, K. 366, in 1780, he wrote to his father:

Give Pimperl a pinch of Spanish snuff, a good wine-biscuit, and three busses (kisses).

. . .

A Starling

Picture from Wikipedia

On May 27, 1784, Mozart noted in his expense book that he had bought a pet starling. In the same book he also wrote down a tune that the bird whistled for him, and noted, "That was beautiful!"

Besides the two G sharps, the notes are identical to the theme of the third movement to Mozart's 17th Piano Concerto, K. 453, which had been written earlier that year. It is unknown whether he taught this to the bird, or if the bird whistled it for him (having been taught the tune by someone else), and that is what made him buy it.

The bird died on June 4, 1787. Mozart wrote a sad little poem on the occasion and buried the bird in his back yard.

To read the poem, click here.

. . .

A Horse

Mozart wrote to his wife, who was at the spa in Baden due to illness, in 1791:

Now as to my mode of life: As soon as you were gone I played two games of billiards with Herr von Mozart who wrote the opera for Schickaneder's theatre (The Magic Flute); then I sold my nag for fourteen ducats; then I had Joseph call my primus (valet) and bring a black coffee, to which I smoked a glorious pipe of tobacco...

Since his health was failing, Mozart's doctor advised him to buy a horse and ride every day. However, Mozart didn't care for the exercise and sold his horse.

What would Mozart say about MY playing?

I often tell people that as much as I wish I could find a time machine and meet Mozart face-to-face, I would not want to be his student. I have read that Mozart was a very good and loyal friend, but as a teacher, he was very critical.
Here, on October 23, 1777 (age 21), he writes to his father about Nannette Stein,  the daughter of his friend Herr Stein,  who played for him.

Whoever can see and hear her play without laughing must be a stone (Stein) like her father. She sits opposite the treble instead of in the middle of the instrument, so that there may be greater opportunities for swaying about and making grimaces. Then she rolls up her eyes and smirks. If a passage occurs twice it is played slower the second time; if three times, still slower. When a passage comes, up goes the arm, and if there is to be an emphasis it must come from the arm, heavily and clumsily, not from the fingers. But the best of all is that when there comes a passage (which  ought to flow like oil) in which there necessarily occurs a change of fingers, there is no need of taking care; when the time comes you stop, lift the hand and nonchalantly begin again. This helps one the better to catch a false note, and the effect is frequently curious.


Oh, did I forget to mention that the girl he criticizes is only eight years old?!

April Fools Day

Mozart loved to play pracitcal jokes on his friends. Here are a couple of instances.

Emanuel Schikaneder wrote the libretto to The Magic Flute, K. 620. He also played the original Papageno (the birdwatcher). In the opera, Papageno sings with his magic chimes, and when he would pretend to strike the chimes, Mozart would play the chords on a keyboard glockenspiel offstage. During one performance, Mozart suddenly decided to play a short arpeggio on the glockenspiel where one wasn't written. Schikaneder figured that when the part would be repeated, Mozart would play the arpeggio again. However, when he went to strike the chimes, no noise came out. Mozart writes,

This time [Schikaneder] stopped and refused to go on. I guessed what he was thinking and again played a chord. He then struck the glockenspiel and said, "Shut up!" Whereupon everyone laughed. I am inclined to think that this joke taught many of the audience for the first time that Papageno does not play the instrument himself.

Another time, the theatre in Prague was practicing the premier of Don Giovanni, K. 527, with Mozart conducting. One singer, Teresa Bondini, was supposed to scream at one point in the opera. Mozart didn't think the shriek was realistic enough. So, while the orchestra played and the singers rehearsed the scene, he snuck around backstage. When it came time for Bondini to scream, Mozart reached out and grabbed her. The frightened Bondini let out a good, loud scream. Mozart, satisfied, told her, "Right! That's the way to shriek."