Welcome to the Deep Dive, the only show designed
to take that stack of reading material you've
been meaning to get to and turn it into pure,
synthesized knowledge. And our target today is
a big one. Maybe the biggest. We're talking about
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It's a huge undertaking,
really, because the man's biography is just as
loaded with mythology as his compositional output.
Absolutely. I mean, we are talking about a composer
who, in a tragically short life of just 35 years,
produced over 800 cataloged works. And these
aren't just minor pieces. They span virtually
every classical genre of his era. Symphonic,
concerto, chamber music, opera, choral, you name
it. And so many of them are still considered
the absolute... you know, untouchable pinnacles
of the repertoire. The pace alone is just staggering.
It really is. But if your knowledge of Mozart
stops at that image of the powdered wig child
prodigy playing for queens, you are missing the
much more dramatic, fascinating and frankly,
much messier story. The story of the pioneering
independent artist he became. Exactly. So our
deep dive today is designed specifically to give
you that fast, thorough and structured understanding.
We want to lift the veil of mythology and explore
the surprising details, the crucial political
failures, and the personal contradictions that
really shaped him. We're going to focus intensely
on that period where he transitioned from a protected,
controlled child star into a revolutionary, debt
-ridden, and ultimately Free genius. We've drawn
on deep biographical and scholarly sources to
connect those dots, focusing on how he developed
that enduring style. The one noted for its melodic
beauty, its formal elegance, and its richness
of harmony and texture. We are going to figure
out how those grueling childhood tours paid off,
why his professional resignation involved literally
being physically kicked out of a building. An
amazing story. And how he managed to write the
towering Jupiter Symphony while at the same time
writing these pitiful letters. Begging his friends
for loans. Okay, let's unpack this genius. Where
do we begin? We have to start at the genesis,
Salzburg, 1756. The story begins with his birth
on January 27th, 1756 in Salzburg. And we really
need to contextualize this location right away.
Yeah, this wasn't the Austria we think of today.
Not at all. It was the Prince Archbishopric of
Salzburg. So a small ecclesiastical principality
governed by the church sitting firmly within
the vast structure of the Holy Roman Empire.
And that political structure is the first key
insight. His entire early life. All his career
prospects, they were dictated by the church hierarchy
and aristocratic patronage. A world of patrons,
not customers. Exactly. It demanded subservience.
And before we move on, we have to acknowledge
his full baptismal name. It tells you so much
about the culture he was born into. Let's hear
it. Joannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus
Mozart. Wow. that is truly a mouthful it is and
it's a reflection of the intense religious and
naming customs of the time while he had a few
variations as an adult he most commonly went
by wolfgang amadei mozart what's absolutely vital
here though is the role of his father leopold
mozart He's a central character in this whole
story. Leopold was not some minor figure. He
was an experienced teacher, a composer. By 1763,
he was the orchestra's deputy kapellmeister in
Salzburg. But more importantly for us, Leopold
had established his pedagogical credibility the
very year Wolfgang was born, 1756. That's right.
That was the year Leopold published his hugely
successful and influential violin textbook, Versuf
einer gründlichen Violenschule. So the man who
shaped the world's greatest musical mind was
already a published, respected, and expert teacher.
This wasn't just random luck. It was focused
preparation. And this preparation met an astonishing
level of innate genius. In the accounts of Wolfgang's
precocious ability, they aren't romanticized
fluff. They are well documented, primarily by
his elder sister, Maria. Anna. Whom everyone
called Nannerl. Nannerl. She recalled that when
she began her keyboard lessons around age seven,
her little brother Wolfgang, who was only three.
Three years old. Was already watching, absorbing
everything, and picking out musical intervals
at the Clavier all on his own. By age five, he
wasn't just imitating. He was competent on both
keyboard and violin and had started composing
little pieces. And Leopold, being the meticulous
teacher he was, wrote these down. They now form
the very beginning of the catalog, K1 through
K5, recorded in the Natural Notenbook. And the
sources emphasize that these initial compositions,
his earliest violin efforts, they were often
entirely of his own initiative. It surprised
even his father. And this is the pivotal moment
for the family. Leopold, who was a decent but,
you know, a minor composer in his own right,
recognized immediately the magnitude of his son's
talent. And he makes a choice. A huge choice.
He chose to essentially abandon his own creative
career to focus entirely on managing, teaching,
and, well, exhibiting Wolfgang. He traded his
identity as a composer for the role of the ultimate
stage father. And the exhibition began almost
immediately. So once the talent was clear, Leopold's
strategy was pretty simple. Show the world. Exactly.
The initial tours, starting in 1762 to the courts
in Munich, Vienna, and Prague, were literally
exhibitions. They were designed to showcase these
two child prodigies, Wolfgang and Nannerl. And
while Manor was also highly accomplished, let's
be clear, Wolfgang was undeniably the star attraction.
What follows is just an unprecedented childhood
education. What the sources call the three and
a half year grand tour was anything but grand
in terms of comfort. Oh, it was a brutal cross
-continental trek, spanning Munich, Mannheim,
Paris, London, The Hague, Amsterdam, just everywhere.
We really should pause to consider the enormous
human cost of this. Absolutely. Travel in the
1760s was primitive. It was dangerous. It was
slow. The family relied entirely on the hospitality
and, frankly, the financial whims of the nobility.
So they were constantly stressed, constantly
moving, constantly exposed to disease. And the
cost was nearly fatal. Multiple times, Leopold
fell gravely ill in London. in 1764, and then
both Wolfgang and Annerle were struck down by
severe near -fatal illnesses in The Hague in
1765. So the image of the cheerful, composing
prodigy really glosses over the reality of this
intense physical and emotional gauntlet. It does.
But musically. Musically, it was the greatest
education money couldn't buy. Right. Mozart wasn't
just performing. He was absorbing the entire
European musical landscape. The exposure to these
cosmopolitan centers allowed him to internalize
all the different national styles. And the most
crucial influence during this period was Johann
Christian Bach. J .S. Bach's youngest son. The
youngest son whom Wolfgang visited in London
between 1764 and 1765. Okay, let's unpack that
influence. What was J .C. Bach doing that was
so different? Well, J .C. Bach, often called
the London Bach, was instrumental in developing
what they called the style gallant. So think
of the Baroque style as, you know, dense, complex,
full of heavy counterpoint, like a heavily embroidered
tapestry. The style gallant was a reaction against
that. It emphasized grace, clarity, and simple,
beautiful melody. It was light. easy on the ear,
and very, very fashionable. So meeting Mach helped
Mozart internalize that elegance, which later
became the foundation of the classical style.
It was a perfect synthesis. And speaking of forging,
during this London trip at the age of eight,
Mozart wrote his first symphony. Eight years
old. It's often debated how much of the transcription
was his father's hand, but the creative input
was certainly Wolfgang's. And following the Grand
Tour came these three crucial trips to Italy
between 1769 and 1773. And these were different.
These were specific missions led by Leopold.
Yes, aimed purely at securing a prestigious,
permanent professional appointment in a major
city. While the main goal failed, these journeys
confirmed his genius to the musical elite. In
Bologna, he studied with the famed theorist Giovanni
Battista Martini. And met the popular composer
Joseph Mislivczyk. And crucially, Mozart was
accepted into the prestigious Academia Philharmonica.
Which was a huge validation, right? You had to
pass a strict test based on counterpoint mastery
to get in. A very strict test. And this is where
we get to the legendary Miserere myth. Ah, yeah.
It perfectly captures the mixture of his staggering
auditory memory and his youthful audacity. Tell
us the story again, because even if some parts
are disputed, it speaks volumes about his reputation.
Okay, so the piece was Gregorio Allegri's Miserere.
It was performed exclusively in the Sistine Chapel
during Holy Week and was regarded as closely
guarded Vatican property. So copying it or disseminating
it was strictly forbidden. Under penalty of excommunication.
Wow. The story claims that in 1770, 14 -year
-old Mozart heard the piece once, went back to
his lodgings, and wrote out the entire complex
score from memory. Just from memory. After one
listen. Then he returned to hear it a second
time and corrected a few minor details. An unauthorized
copy of a highly secretive piece transcribed
after two hearings. And his artistic successes
led directly to opera commissions in Milan. Yes.
Mitrodate, Redi Ponto in 1770, Ascanio in Alba
in 1771, and Licio Silla in 1772. These were
successful premieres that should have sealed
his fate as a sought -after composer. But it
didn't work out that way. No. The political system
defeated Leopold's grand plan. His central goal,
a secure high -status court appointment, was
repeatedly blocked. And the ultimate obstruction
came from Empress Maria Theresa. Yes, who, despite
recognizing his immense talent, was reluctant
to employ, and this is her quote, useless people.
Useless people. So the young composer was essentially
dismissed by the crown as a high -class novelty
act. Someone who didn't fit the knees of a stable,
functional court. That failure. The ultimate
disappointment of his father's decade -long investment
forced Mozart to return to his provincial hometown
of Salzburg. But the trip wasn't a total loss
artistically. The solo motet exultat jubilate
K -165 emerged during this period. And it perfectly
showcases that dazzling, light, Italianate mastery
he had absorbed. It's the ultimate contradiction,
isn't it? By age 17, he was perhaps the most
accomplished musician in Europe, yet he had failed
to secure the one thing his father demanded,
stability. He was back in Salzburg, poised for
dramatic confrontation with authority. So Mozart
is back in Salzburg in 1773, forced to take a
job as a court musician for Prince Archbishop
Hieronymus Colorado. And this is where the genius
starts to collide violently with bureaucracy.
Right. He was a recognized genius stuck working
for a man who primarily viewed him as a slightly
superior household servant. And the work schedule
was relentless. It resulted in this prodigious
output of symphonies, sonatas, quartets. I mean,
demonstrating his versatility across every genre.
But the internal cost was immense. Let's talk
about the finances for a second, because this
is crucial to understanding his resentment. OK.
His salary was 150 florins a year. That just
sounds like a historical number floating in the
air. So let's try to contextualize it. Well,
to give you perspective, a comfortable middle
class life in Salzburg at the time required several
hundred florins a year. A skilled teacher or
a mid -level civil servant might earn 300 to
400 florins. So 150 florins was basically pocket
money. Barely. Especially for a celebrated composer
who had just performed across Europe, it fueled
his increasing desire for a life of professional
respect, not servitude. And despite the low pay,
the creativity just soared. It did. Between April
and December 1775, he composed five violin concertos,
the only ones he ever wrote. And the last three
of those are staples in the modern repertoire.
Absolutely. And then, early in 1777, came the
breakthrough E -flat piano concerto, K -271,
known as the Genome Concerto. Why is that one
considered a landmark? Because K -271 is critically
recognized as a work that breaks free from the
polite conventions of the style gallant. It begins
to integrate real drama and symphonic complexity
into the concerto form. So he was pushing the
boundaries, even while he was trapped in Salzburg.
Exactly. But his discontent just grew and grew.
Beyond the low salary, he desperately longed
to compose operas. Which he viewed as the highest
form of musical expression. Yes. And Salzburg
rarely afforded him this opportunity. The closure
of the court theater in 1775 essentially capped
his artistic possibilities in that provincial
city. He felt suffocated. Completely. He was
writing background music for the archbishop's
services or dinners. He knew his destiny was
in the great European capitals, writing for the
grand stage. That growing frustration boiled
over, leading him to resign his post in August
1777. And he ventures out again, actively searching
for a replacement job. He took his mother, Anna
Maria. with him this time, visiting Augsburg,
Mannheim, Munich, and Paris. The Mannheim stop
was important for his continued musical synthesis,
wasn't it? It was. He encountered the Mannheim
Orchestra, which was renowned across Europe for
its discipline, its dynamic range, its technical
virtuosity. So he absorbed these advanced instrumental
techniques and integrated them into his orchestration.
But Mannheim also provided a major personal distraction.
A failure of the heart. Yes, he fell deeply in
love with Aloysia Weber, the second of four talented
musical sisters. But, like the employment prospects
he was looking for, the romantic prospects failed
to materialize. And he had to continue his fruitless
search in Paris in March 1778. Paris proved to
be a disaster, both personally and financially.
The search for a prestigious, well -paying job
was fruitless. He was hinting, almost desperately,
at a... possible but unwanted organist post at
Versailles. He quickly fell into debt, relying
on loans and pawning valuables just to survive.
And this is where the deep dive turns really
tragic. Yes. The summer of 1778 became the nadir,
the absolute lowest point of his life. His mother,
Anna Maria, who was traveling with him, died
in Paris on July 3rd, 1778. And the tragedy was
likely compounded by their financial situation.
Biographers suggest there may have been delays
in calling a proper physician because they just
didn't have the funds. To lose his mother, far
from home, broke. And having failed in his mission,
it must have been utterly crushing. This experience
of grief and failure, far removed from the protective
bubble of his childhood, it certainly hardened
the 22 -year -old Mozart. Leopold, still back
in Salzburg, used his connections and secured
Wolfgang a post back home. court organist and
concertmaster, with a slightly improved salary
of 450 florins a year. Reluctantly, Wolfgang
returned in January 1779. And while the salary
was better, the environment and the discontent
were exactly the same. However, the Paris journey
did produce works that showed a new emotional
maturity. a new darkness yes notably the deeply
personal and sorrowful a minor piano sonata k
-310 and the confident paris symphony number
31 he was maturing into a master but still bound
by the chains of the provincial court The stage
was set for the final violent break, and it began
with success. His opera Idomeneo premiered triumphantly
in Munich in January 1781. So Mozart, riding
this wave of operatic triumph, was summoned to
Vienna by Archbishop Colorado in March. But Colorado
brought him to Vienna for the celebrations marking
Emperor Joseph II's accession, and he immediately
reasserted his dominance. Mozart, a successful
opera composer, was forced to dine with the valets
and the cooks in the archbishop's establishment.
That wasn't just a minor. or inconvenience. That
was a deliberate, intense humiliation designed
to remind Mozart exactly where he stood in this
social hierarchy as a servant. Mozart, however,
saw Vienna as pure opportunity. He was determined
to shed that role of servant and establish himself
as a serious public figure. He aimed to meet
Emperor Joseph II and, crucially, participate
in public concerts like the prestigious Tuncunzler
Society series. So he wanted to perform his own
music for his own profit. Exactly. And Colorado
absolutely opposed this pursuit of independent
income and status. He viewed any outside performance
as a defiance of his authority. The tension escalated
when Colorado blocked Mozart from playing before
the emperor at Countess Thun's residence. And
that one gig would have paid him a massive $20
million. Which was equivalent to half of his
new yearly Salzburg salary. Financial stakes
were immense. So when Mozart realized he could
earn a year's wages in two hours outside of Colorado's
control. The dynamic became unsustainable. The
quarrel reached a climax in May when Mozart attempted
to resign and Colorado refused. A classic 18th
century power struggle. Colorado wanted total
control over his property, which is Mozart. But
Mozart, emboldened by his success and his presence
in the capital, demanded autonomy. And the final
dismissal came in June 1781. The archbishop finally
granted permission for Mozart to leave. But he
did so in the most grossly insulting way possible.
His steward, Count Arco, literally administered
the dismissal with a kick in the arse. A physical
kick. Yes. That physical assault is the critical,
visceral moment that symbolizes the end of the
Baroque system for Mozart. It wasn't just a professional
separation. It was a physical humiliation that
catalyzed a revolutionary life choice. The biographer
Maynard Solomon called Mozart's decision to settle
in Vienna as a freelance performer and composer
a revolutionary step. And he was right. But wasn't
it also deeply reckless? Oh, incredibly. His
father, Leopold, sided entirely against him,
urging him to reconcile and return obediently.
So he'd lost his job, his primary relationship
with his father was severed, and he had no guaranteed
income in the most expensive city in Europe.
It was absolutely reckless, fueled by a mixture
of artistic necessity and I think a deep psychological
need for freedom after decades of control. But
it was also necessary. He realized that the ceiling
in Salzburg was just too low for his genius.
He chose independence over security. The safety
net was gone, and that instability would define
the rest of his life. With the shackles off,
Mozart's career in Vienna just exploded. Immediately.
He established himself not just as a competent
musician, but as the finest keyboard player in
Vienna. And his supremacy was cemented almost
right away. We have that famous account of his
competition before Emperor Joseph II in December
1781. Against the renowned Italian composer and
keyboardist Muzio Clementi. And Mozart decisively
won the emperor's favor, establishing himself
as the city's new musical superstar. His success
as a composer was equally swift. His opera, the
Infugnus dem Serele Abduction from the Seralio,
premiered on July 16, 1782. It was a massive
hit. A huge success throughout German -speaking
Europe. It was a major artistic victory, solidifying
his reputation as a major composer, completely
independent of court sponsorship. This was proof
that his revolutionary move had paid off. Artistically,
at least. And personally, his life was moving
just as fast. After the romantic failure with
a Louisa Weber in Mannheim, he quickly turned
his attention to her sister, Constance. The third
daughter of the family who had moved to Vienna.
The courtship, however, was, well, it was fraught.
This wasn't the romantic, soaring melodies of
Enfroom. This was messy, real -life drama. Biographers
point to his volatile jealousy, highlighted by
a major crisis when Constance permitted a young
man in the spirit of a parlor game to measure
her calves. It's amazing, isn't it? A man capable
of writing Don Giovanni nearly broke off his
engagement over a calf measurement. What does
that tell us about his intense emotional life?
I think it shows his immense insecurity, which
contrasted so sharply with his professional confidence.
The break with Colorado had created this huge
rift with his father, Leopold, who was still
furious and fiercely opposed the marriage. Securing
his father's permission was a major difficulty.
And the marriage took place in an atmosphere
of intense crisis. Constanze had possibly moved
in with Mozart, which placed her in severe disgrace
by the standards of Viennese society. He was
genuinely worried. about Constance's mother potentially
calling the police to break them up. So they
rushed the ceremony. They married on August 4th,
1782 in St. Stephen's Cathedral. And Leopold's
reluctant, late consent arrived the very next
day. This was a marriage forged under duress,
driven by necessity and passion, not calm planning.
And tragically, the couple had six children,
but... infant mortality being what it was in
the 18th century, only two survived infancy.
Carl Thomas Mozart and Franz Xaver the Völfgang
Mozart. This constant presence of loss must have
just shadowed all their triumphs. These next
five years, though, they represent Mozart's undisputed
artistic zenith. And the highest point of his
financial prosperity. He was fully integrated
into the intellectual and cultural life of Vienna.
A key development was his deep study of the music
of J .S. Bach and Handel. And this was largely
made possible by Baron Gottfried van Swieten.
Van Swieten was a pivotal figure. He had a valuable
private collection of late Baroque manuscripts,
and he held these Sunday musical gatherings where
Mozart was exposed to and began profoundly studying
these works. How did that study transform his
music? It led to the integration of complex counterpoint,
the intricate interwoven melodies of the Baroque
into the elegant clarity of the classical style.
So we see this synthesis in works like the fugal
passages in the finale of his Jupiter Symphony.
And within the dense textures of Dysabre Flute,
he wasn't just performing the style gallon anymore.
He was giving it intellectual weight. He was
building a bridge between the previous century
and the new one. And equally important was his
professional friendship with Joseph Hayden, whom
he met around 1784. They would often play together
in impromptu string quartets, cementing this
deep, mutual professional respect. And Hayden,
who is the established giant of the era, recognized
Mozart's unique genius. The famous quote he gave
to Leopold in 1785 is legendary. What does he
say? I tell you before God, and as an honest
man, your son is the greatest composer known
to me by person and repute. He has taste and
what is more, the greatest still in composition.
That's historic validation from the man who basically
defined the symphony. And Mozart responded by
dedicating six of his own masterly string quartets
to Haydn, directly acknowledging the influence
of Haydn's Opus 33 set. This was an exchange
between equals. Professionally Mozart was thriving
as the ultimate freelance musician. From 1782
to 1785, he essentially created his own market
as a performer composer. He would premiere three
or four new piano concertos each season, performing
as the soloist in highly popular public concerts.
And he showed entrepreneurial creativity in booking
venues. Oh, yeah. Since theater space was limited,
he rented large, non -traditional venues like
a hall in the Trattnerhof apartment building
or the ballroom of the Melgrub restaurant. And
these concerts were hugely popular and lucrative.
Which brings us to the great financial paradox.
The substantial returns from these successful
concerts enabled a lifestyle of luxury that was
completely unsustainable for a freelancer. He
adopted the spending habits of the aristocracy
he served, rather than the saving habits of the
bourgeoisie. Let's break down those expenses
to really understand the recklessness. He moved
into a lavish apartment with a yearly rent of
460 florins. An immense sum. He bought a fine
Fort Tapiano from Anton Walter for about 900
florins. And perhaps most famously, a billiard
table for 300 florins. And he was sending his
son to expensive schools, keeping servants. I
mean, this reflects a total lack of financial
discipline. He treated his income. which could
fluctuate wildly depending on the concert season,
as if it were a guaranteed annuity from an aristocratic
post. Biographers note he saved virtually nothing.
This inability to transition from the mindset
of a court musician to a self -employed businessman
would eventually destroy him. In the midst of
this whirlwind, he found structure and intellectual
focus in Freemasonry. Yes, he joined the Lodge
zur Voltetigkeit, or Beneficence, on December
14, 1784. And Freemasonry became a crucial social
and spiritual network for him. It reinforced
the Enlightenment ideals of reason, morality,
and brotherhood that you can see permeating works
like The Magic Flute. This affiliation provided
a stable intellectual framework that his personal
life otherwise lacked. And then came the collaborations
that cemented his legacy for all time. the operas
written with librettist Lorenzo da Ponte. Shifting
his focus away from the keyboard in late 1785,
this partnership led to three masterpieces, Le
Nozze di Figaro, The Marriage of Figaro in 1786.
And Don Giovanni in 1787. These were revolutionary
in their depiction of class and psychology. Figaro
was based on a politically volatile play that
depicted servants outsmarting their masters.
A daring subject in aristocratic Vienna. And
Don Giovanni was even darker. Mixing comedy,
opera buffa, with serious moral themes and tragedy,
opera Syria, creating this hybrid that challenged
the expectations of the time. The genius in this
partnership wasn't just the music, but the depth
of the characterization. De Ponti provided the
psychological complexity. And Mozart gave that
complexity a voice through intricate orchestral
color and dramatic setting. Tragically, though,
the golden years were short -lived. Very. By
late 1787, his professional fortunes began to
decline rapidly. He did secure a steady aristocratic
post in December 1787 when Emperor Joseph II
appointed him chamber composer. Which sounds
like a step up, but it wasn't a lucrative position.
Not at all. It was part -time, paying a modest
800 florins a year. The emperor's intent was
clear. This was a retainer fee designed specifically
to keep Mozart from leaving Vienna. To stop him
from taking his genius to London or Berlin? Yeah.
But it was not enough to cover his lifestyle.
And the underlying problem was the macroeconomy.
Around 1786, Mozart stopped performing as frequently,
which was his main source of large, unpredictable
income. Compounding this, the Austro -Turkish
War severely decreased general prosperity. Exactly.
The aristocracy couldn't afford their lavish
concerts and commissions anymore, and the freelance
market just evaporated. That economic reality
hit hard. Scholars estimate that Mozart saw a
66 % decline in his income compared to his peak
years just five years earlier. So the man who
was used to spending 460 florins a year on rent
now had almost no discretionary income. And this
is where the historical record becomes really
painful to read. Mozart's financial desperation
is preserved in a... pitiful sequence of letters
pleading for loans, primarily sent to his fellow
Freemason, Michael von Puckberg. These aren't
just casual requests. They were often heart wrenching
appeals for immediate relief. And the contrast
between the sheer quality of his art and the
misery of his personal life is just devastating.
Scholars suggest that the intense stress of the
financial chaos led to severe depression. his
musical output slowed dramatically and his professional
letters were dominated by logistics and money
worries rather than artistic inspiration yet
even from this nadir masterpieces emerged yes
in 1788 he composed his last three symphonies
number 39 number 40 the great g minor and the
magnificent jupiter number 41 all within a matter
of weeks the g minor is a work of intense tragic
despair written during a time when he was simultaneously
begging Putschberg for 100 florins. He also completed
the third De Ponte opera, Cosi Fantute, in 1790.
But his desperation for cash led him to undertake
these long, unsuccessful journeys. Leipzig, Tresden,
Berlin, Frankfurt, and Mannheim in 1789 and 1790.
And these travels failed to secure the permanent
high -paying position that could have saved his
solvency. He was a superstar begging for money
in an economy that simply couldn't support him.
The tragedy. is that the freedom he fought for
in 1781 was now the very cause of his misery
before we discuss his innovations let's just
paint a picture of the man himself the image
we have of the powdered wig genius often obscures
the person what was wolfgang amadeus mozart actually
like Well, physically, he was noted as a remarkably
small man, very thin and pale, and his face was
pitted from a childhood case of smallpox. But
biographers note he was highly conscious of his
appearance. Oh, yes. Possessing fine, fair hair,
of which he was rather vain, and he loved elegant
clothing. He didn't dress like a struggling artist.
The tenor Michael Kelly recalled seeing him at
rehearsals in a crimson police and gold -laced
cocked hat. Looking every inch the aristocrat
he wanted to be. He also indulged in aristocratic
leisure billiards, dancing, keeping pets, including
a starling and a horse for riding. And what about
his work habits? The image of effortless perfection.
Is that accurate? It's somewhat misleading. He
certainly worked at a tremendous pace to meet
deadlines. Composing the last three symphonies
in two months is proof of that. Right. But the
sources clarify that he did, in fact, make sketches
and drafts. Unlike Beethoven, who kept these
meticulous, struggling notebooks, most of Mozart's
preparatory work is not preserved. Why not? His
wife, Constance, sought to destroy many of the
sketches after his death, viewing them perhaps
as evidence of imperfection. It's a major loss
for musicology. He maintained a wide social circle.
But beyond the famous friendship with Hayden,
there's a truly fascinating figure in his circle.
The horn player, Joseph Leutgeb. Ah, yes. Mozart
delighted in playing elaborate, often cruel,
practical jokes on Leutgeb. He was clearly a
man who needed an outlet for his playful, sometimes
aggressive humor. And speaking of humor, we have
to address the scholarship that highlights his
startling fondness for scatological humor. It's
such a jarring contrast with the formal elegance
of his music. It is intensely human and jarring.
This love for crude, vulgar, often fecal humor
is preserved not only in anecdotal accounts,
but also in his surviving letters. Notably, those
exchanged with his cousin Maria Anna Thekla Mozart,
his Bess. Furthermore, he actually composed a
series of scatological canons that he sang with
friends. Why do scholars emphasize this so much?
Because it adds an essential, earthier, and almost
juvenile layer to the genius, the man who wrote
the purity of Ave Verum Corpus also enjoyed composing
musical jokes about passing gas. This profound
contradiction helps us understand the dual nature
of his creative personality. And finally, we
should note his affiliations. He was raised and
remained a devout Catholic, but his intellectual
and social life centered increasingly on the
teachings and fellowship of Freemasonry after
he joined the lodge in 1784. Which provided the
philosophical basis for the themes of virtue
and wisdom we see in his final works. When we
talk about musical style, we have to begin by
stating the obvious. Mozart, along with Haydn,
defines the classical era. His music is characterized
by clarity, balance, and transparency in structure.
He took the established forms. the symphony,
the string quartet, the piano concerto, and advance
their technical sophistication and emotional
depth to a point that subsequent composers really
struggled to match. But focusing only on the
elegance misses the dark undercurrent. The sources
remind us that to understand Mozart, we have
to recognize the exceptional power of his finest
masterpieces, which often conceal profound emotional
turmoil. This is where we bring in the analysis
of the critic Charles Rosen. Who argued that,
and I'm quoting, it is only through recognizing
the violence and sensuality at the center of
Mozart's work that we can make a start towards
a comprehension of his structures. And you can
hear this in the turbulence of the Piano Concerto
No. 24 in C minor, K491. Or the agonizing intensity
of Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K550, and the
psychological terror inherent in Don Giovanni.
Rosen's phrase, shockingly voluptuous terror,
is key. How did he balance that deep emotional
capacity with the structural clarity of the classical
style? Through that synthesis we discussed earlier,
his youthful travels exposed him to the light,
simple, highly melodic style gallant of Italy
and London. But his maturity, fueled by the study
of Bach and Handel, allowed him to progressively
reintroduce the complex counterpoint of the late
Baroque. He used the classical structure, like
sonata form, as a container, but he filled it
with Baroque sophistication and proto -romantic
emotion. His versatility in opera is equally
impressive. He successfully composed in every
prevailing style of the time, often mixing and
elevating them. Let's quickly define those types
for the listener. Sure. First, you have opera
seria, the serious opera, usually dealing with
mythological or historical figures featuring
high drama and noble characterization. That's
Idomenio. Right. Then there's opera buffa, the
comic opera, which used contemporary subjects
and featured rapid -fire ensembles and farcical
plots. That's Figaro. And finally, the German
style. singspiel which literally means sing play
characterized by spoken dialogue interspersed
with songs and arias and that's the magic flute
mozart mastered all three To give the listener
a practical tool for identification, we need
to quickly discuss the Kochel catalog. Ah, yes.
The Kochel catalog is essential for any discussion
of Mozart. Because of the vast output and the
sheer number of works, every known composition
is assigned a unique number, chronologically
ordered, followed by the abbreviation K or KV.
KV for Kochel for tightness. Exactly. Ludwig
von Kochel first completed this in 1862. It allows
us to distinguish between, say, K1a, an early
minuet, and K626, the un - finished Requiem.
And finally, regarding his instrumentation, what
was the preferred vehicle for this keyboard master?
He rapidly abandoned the harpsichord for the
fortepiano, the ancestor of the modern piano,
which was capable of greater dynamics and subtle
expression. He was highly discerning, admiring
the instruments of Johann Andreas Stein. But
in Vienna, he purchased and consistently relied
on an instrument made by Anton Walter, which
is now exhibited in Salzburg. And his father
confirmed just how central that specific instrument
was to his career. He wrote that your brother's
pianoforte has been moved at least 12 times from
his house to the theater or to someone else's
house for his constant public performances. He
was literally dragging his means of production
all over the capital. Mozart's last year, 1791,
presents the final massive contradiction. Despite
the previous years dominated by financial desperation
and depression, it was a time of high productivity
and, crucially, one of financial stabilization.
That is a critical detail that often gets overlooked
in the death narrative. His finances were finally
beginning to improve. He was paying off debts,
and it's believed he secured annuities from wealthy
patrons in Amsterdam and Hungary, along with
lucrative income from the sale of dance music.
And this stabilization coincided with the surge
of late masterpieces. This is the year he produced
The Magic Flute, which was a tremendous public
success and earned him much -needed funds. He
also wrote the... Sublime Clarinet Concerto,
K622, the Final Piano Concerto, K595, his last
string quintet. And of course, the unfinished
Requiem, K626. The productivity was astonishing,
but tragically, it came to an abrupt halt. He
fell ill in Prague in September 1791. This was
during the premiere of his opera, La Clemenza
di Tito. His health deteriorated sharply, and
by November 20th, he was completely bedridden,
suffering from swelling, pain, and vomiting.
And he was deeply preoccupied with finishing
the Requiem right up until his death. The romantic
image persists that he dictated complex passages
to his student, Franz Xaver Susmer, from his
deathbed, but the consensus among scholars is
that evidence for extensive dictation is minimal.
He was just trying desperately to finish it,
knowing it would be his final testament. Pitzer
died on December 5th, 1791 at the age of 35,
and the circumstances of his burial have become
heavily mythologized. Often depicting a neglected
pauper's funeral. Which is a crucial clarification
of the facts. His funeral was modest, yes, but
entirely consistent with contemporary Viennese
customs for a man of his standing. He was interred
in a common grave at St. Mark's Cemetery, but
this did not mean a communal pit. Right. It meant
an individual grave for a non -aristocratic person,
which, unlike the perpetual graves of the nobility,
was subject to excavation after 10 years. And
the dramatic accounts of a storm and snow during
the burial. Are definitively false. Records show
the day was calm and mild. And then there is
the enduring mystery of his death. The official
record listed the cause vaguely as Hitzig's Friesel
fever. Or severe miliary fever, which simply
described a ration fever, not a modern diagnosis.
Because of that vagueness, researchers have suggested
over a hundred possible causes. Everything from
acute rheumatic fever, streptococcal infection,
trachynosis, to various kidney ailments or even
mercury poisoning. The truth remains uncertain.
But what is absolutely certain is the immediate
reaction to his death. Immediately following
his passing, his reputation just exploded in
an unprecedented wave of enthusiasm. Biographies
were rushed into production, and publishers scrambled
to create complete authoritative editions of
his works. His influence became tectonic, shaping
the entire generation of composers who followed.
Perhaps his most famous student was Ludwig von
Beethoven. Fifteen years his junior. Beethoven
deeply internalized Mozart's work. He traveled
to Vienna in 1787 hoping to study with him, performed
his operas, and even wrote cadenzas for his concertos,
specifically the D minor piano concerto K466.
Beethoven knew that Mozart had paved the way
for musical independence. What we have seen in
this deep dive is the defining tension of Mozart's
life. the struggle between the suffocating structure
of institutional service, exemplified by his
humiliating treatment in Salzburg by Colorado,
and his necessary revolutionary artistic independence,
which he fought for in Vienna. And woven through
that political struggle is the profound contradiction
between financial chaos the man buying expensive
40 pianos and billiards tables one year. While
writing works of transcendent beauty and begging
for loans the next, and a soaring prodigious
creative output that seemingly never wavered
in quality, even under duress. Ultimately, the
enduring miracle of Mozart is the purity of his
sound combined with that profound emotional capacity
for violence and sensuality we discussed. It
brings to mind Albert Einstein's famous beautiful
quote. Mozart's music is so pure, it seems to
have been ever present in the universe. It's
an image of divine channeling. But that leads
us to a final provocative thought for you, the
learner, to consider. Given the extraordinary
blend of Mozart's meticulous structure, his capacity
for that shockingly voluptuous terror, and his
profound use of complex Baroque counterpoint,
how much of Mozart's music was truly that divine
inspiration, the pure channel that Einstein speaks
of? And how much was the sheer result of the
intense disciplined, synthesizing musical practice
imposed upon him during the grueling, formative
grand tours of his childhood. Was the chaotic,
independent life he led in Vienna the very freedom
that nearly bankrupted him and perhaps shortened
his life? Merely the inevitable price paid by
an artistic genius finally freed from the suffocating
structure that had, in fact, forged his brilliance.
That is the ultimate tension we leave you with.