The Funeral of Mozart

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart; Salzburg, Austria, 27th January 1756, Salzburg - Vienna, Austria, 5th December 1791)

Last year, I marked the death of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart by publishing the tale of his final hours, the facts of which are so often confused with the fiction depicted in the excellent play and film, Amadeus. In that same post I addressed the circumstances of his funeral, so often and erroneously reported as a pauper's funeral. Today I thought I would revisit the sad day on which the composer went to the grave, an event which is frequently misunderstood.

Detail of the face of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart by Johann Nepomuk della Croce, 1780

It is often said of Mozart that he was buried in a pauper's grave, slung into an unmarked pit and stripped of his dignity and identity. In fact, this was not the case at all; Mozart's funeral was not unlike hundreds of other burials that took part that same year for people who, though not paupers, simply couldn't afford the astronomical cost of a private funeral. Though his grave was a common plot, it was not a pauper's pit; rather, a common grave was an individual plot that the city might reuse after a decade and there was nothing unusual or shameful about being buried in one. Indeed, only the most noble were allowed the honour of claiming a grave that wouldn't be reused when space got tight!

The composer went to his grave as one of half a dozen occupants of the plot in question, each person often memorialised by a simple wooden marker. Around the turn of the century, as was the custom, Mozart's remains were disinterred so that the plot might be reused and it is at this point that the location of his final resting place was lost as were so many in the era. 

Mozart was certainly memorialised at services in Vienna and Prague and his widow, Constanze, received many donations towards the cost of her husband's funeral, as well as the upkeep of her family. I for one am certainly pleased that the composer didn't go to a pauper's grave, but this episode does offer a fascinating insight into some burial traditions that seem utterly alien to us today!

The Premiere of The Magic Flute

After attending the premieres of The Marriage of Figaro and Don Giovanni, it seems only right that we take a carriage to the theatre once more and watch the curtain rise on The Magic Flute, the first opera I ever saw on stage!

Detail of the face of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart by Johann Nepomuk della Croce, 1780

The story begins in 1780 when Mozart met the impresario, Emanuel Schikaneder, when his troupe visited Salzburg and befriended the composer's family. The two men saw in one another kindred spirits and when the company took up residence at the Theater auf der Wieden in 1789, Mozart often visited the theatre. The company staged a serious of fairytale productions were staged that appeared to culminate in The Magic Flute, which tied together many themes and concepts seen in other pieces. 

Schikaneder and Mozart collaborated on the opera and Schikaneder wrote the libretto, working closely with the composer to ensure that his vision might be adhered to and that each of his company would see their particular talents showcased appropriately. With the premiere scheduled for 30th September 1791, the production became the must-have theatrical ticket of the season and when the curtain rose, Mozart himself conducted whilst Schikaneder performed as Papageno. The Magic Flute was an enormous success and went on to play for over one hundred performances, usually to packed houses as audiences flocked to see the celebrated new opera. Critics lauded it as a triumph, with Mozart himself attending on numerous occasions simply to enjoy the work he had helped to create.

Schikaneder as Papageno

Schikaneder and Mozart's success was to be darkened by tragedy as on 5th December, Mozart died. Devastated at the loss of his friend and collaborator, Schikaneder staged a benefit performance of The Magic Flute for the composer's bereaved family and it has been performed all over the world ever since, bringing a fairytale world to life for centuries. 

The Premiere of The Marriage of Figaro

Once again we are honoured to attend the premiere of a new work by that legendary composer, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. You may recall a previous, autumnal trip to Prague where we were privileged to witness the first performance of Don Giovanni and today we join the iconic Austrian once more, this time at the inaugural performance of Le nozze di Figaro, ossia la folle giornata (The Marriage of Figaro, or The Day of Madness), on 1st May 1786.

Detail of the face of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart by Johann Nepomuk della Croce, 1780

The inspiration and source for the piece came from La folle journée, ou le Mariage de Figaro, an archly comic play written by Pierre Beaumarchais in 1778. The play premiered in 1784 and was the most successful French dramatic work of the century. In fact, it was such a must see show that theatre legend claims that people actually died in the scrum to get a ticket.

Mozart adored the play and believed that it had all the hallmarks of a successful opera and he took his scheme to his librettist, Lorenzo De Ponte, who approached Beaumarchais with the idea. The playwright gave his consent and the composer and librettist set to work. Although the play was briefly banned in Vienna on account of its lascivious content, the pair managed to get their opera cleared and the stage was set. In their hands the French work was translated into Italian and the political content of the original play removed. It took Da Ponte just six weeks to complete his libretto and Mozart then set to work.

Lorenzo da Ponte by Nathaniel Rogers (engraving by Michele Pekenino)

When the opera was presented to the Imperial Italian Opera Company, they were keen to produce it and paid Mozart a rich salary of 450 florins and his librettist 200. It was agreed that the composer would conduct the first two performances and in total nine shows were performed in 1786.

The crowd that filed into the Viennese Burgtheater on that spring evening were alive with anticipation, excited to hear Mozart's newest work. They were not disappointed and cheered their approval as the curtain fell, though not everybody was quite as adoring and reports exist of heckles being shouted as the performers took their bows. Throughout the short run encores were performed every night, sometimes extending to more than half a dozen songs and when news of this reached Joseph II, he did not approve of what he was hearing.

The Old Burgtheater

It occurred to the Emperor that all of these encores seemed just a little excessive and he decreed that posters must be put up declaring that encores should be limited. With this move he intended to end what he saw as the indulgently lengthy running times that operas enjoyed. Regardless, the opera's reputation grew and Figaro became an iconic work, performed across the globe to this day.

The True Death of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart; Salzburg, Austria, 27th January 1756, Salzburg - Vienna, Austria, 5th December 1791)

Detail of the face of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart by Johann Nepomuk della Croce, 1780

A few weeks ago we were privileged to witness one of the finest evenings in the life of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, with the grand premiere of the critical and commercial hit, Don Giovanni. Now we join the legendary composer in the last hours of his life, a time that has since been dramatised and mythologised in fiction.

Mozart visited Prague in 1791 to oversee production on his new opera, La Clemenza di Tito. Whilst there he fell ill, becoming lethargic and weak though he continued to write and perform, refusing to allow his ailing health to slow him down. The opera was a success and Mozart returned home to Vienna to find the city in the midst of a fever epidemic, where he grew weaker with every passing day. His increasingly fragile state caused great distress to both the composer and his wife, Constanze, yet he worked on, labouring over the Requiem that was to be his final work. He became increasingly distracted by thoughts of death, his condition worsening quickly until, on 20th November, he took to his bed and stayed there.

Mozart's physician, Thomas Franz Closset, was called to his side and found himself unable to make a diagnosis, settling instead on bleeding the ailing composer. However, there was to be no respite and Mozard suffered vomiting and terrible pain throughout his whole body, swelling to the point that he could barely move. Wracked with agony, he confided in his wife that he believed he was being poisoned, though no evidence has ever been found to support these claims. Mozart was nursed day and night by Constanze and her family, who did all they could to try and make him just a little more comfortable. Still he worked at the Requiem, supervising rehearsals that were held at his bedside and giving notes to performers as well as he could. In private he confided to Constanze that the Requiem was to be for him, sure now that death was near.

More than a fortnight after he retired to bed, Mozart drew his last breath at 1.00am on 5th December 1791, with Constanze at his side. The new widow was overwhelmed by grief and despair, refusing to leave her husband for many hours. Eventually though Constanze was coaxed away and Mozart was buried in a common grave at the Cemetery of St Marx on 7th December. Much has been made of the grave in which the composer was laid to rest but it was far from a pauper's grave, nor did he share it with dozens of other unfortunates. A common grave was an individual plot that the city might reuse after a decade and there was nothing unusual or shameful about being buried in one. Indeed, only the most noble were allowed the honour of claiming a grave that wouldn't be reused when space got tight!

Memorial services were held in Vienna and Prague for the late composer and his reputation and popularity enjoyed a sudden spike. No definite diagnosis was ever made though his death certificate identifies severe miliary fever as the cause of death though in later years experts have tended to favour rheumatic fever. We may never know for sure what killed Mozart but one thing we can be sure of is that he has become a cultural legend, living on in the music that is his legacy.

The Premiere of Don Giovanni

On 28th October 1787, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart put the last touches to the score of the now-legendary Don Giovanni, finally declaring the monumental work finished. The notes and directions he added could hardly have come any later in the process and within 24 hours of the composer setting down his pen, the opera was to receive its world premiere at the Stavovské Divaldo (Estates Theatre) in Prague.

Detail of the face of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart by Johann Nepomuk della Croce, 1780

In truth Mozart was concerned for the opening night of his opera but, having already been postponed twice, there was no way that the performance could be set back again. Frantically making adjustments and amendments right up until the moment that the overture began, even Lorenzo da Ponte's libretto was subject to improvisations, tweaks and changes even as was being performed. The composer struggled with unprepared performers and an orchestra who would not see the full score until the night of the premiere and yet, when it came to the moment of truth, the pieces fell effortlessly into place seemingly effortlessly, giving no hint of the frantic rush to complete the work.

Lorenzo da Ponte by Nathaniel Rogers (engraving by Michele Pekenino)

Tickets for Il Dissoluto Punito ossia il Don Giovanni (The Rake Punished, or Don Giovanni), were the hottest of the year and anybody who was anybody gathered at theatre on that autumn evening, anticipation at a height for what promised to be a sensational show. With Mozart's composition seemingly all the chattering classes could think about for weeks before curtain, crowds had turned out in force to besiege the box office in the hope of securing one of 800 tickets, creating a tide of people through which those lucky enough to have a seat were forced to pick their way.

Mozart himself was due to conduct the opera and when he took up position in the orchestra pit the cheers went on and on, the composer rapturously received before so much as a note had been played or sung. Eventually the performance began on schedule at 7.00pm amid all the ribaldry and excitement that we Georgians were known for when visiting the theatre, creating what must have been a heady night indeed. The show ended at around 9.30pm to an ovation and the delighted audience went their merry way, some stopping at the box office to purchase a copy of the libretto, a shrewd bit of early merchandising!

The Stavovské Divaldo (Estates Theatre) in Prague

Reviews for Don Giovanni were rapturous and Mozart was once again the toast of Prague as tickets flew from the box office. Mozart eventually left the city for Vienna and a new project but Prague remained dear to his heart and the city, to this day, celebrates its links with the legendary composer.


To find out more about Mozart's musically talented sister, do click here!

Maria Anna Walburga Ignatia Mozart: A Most Musical Lady

Maria Anna Walburga Ignatia Mozart (Salzburg, Austria, 30th July 1751 – Salzburg, Austria, 29th October 1829)

Affectionately known as Nannerl

Maria Anna Walburga Ignatia Mozart by Pietro Antonio Lorenzoni

I have spoken many a time of the Gilflurt love of music and it's likely that you may have heard of a certain gentleman by the name of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, as he has enjoyed a certain measure of success. Whether you have heard of his sister... well, that's a different matter.

Before her brother had so much as touched a piano key, Maria Anna was learning the harpsichord at the knee of her father, Leopold Mozart. As Maria Anna flourished, Leopold added his infant son to the family act and before long the siblings were touring the capital cities of Europe. Though Wolfgang's name is legendary now, in childhood he often took second place to his extremely talented sister when she topped the bill during their recitals. The young Wolfgang adored Nannerl and together they invented their own languages and worlds of fantasy, delighting in one another's company as they travelled the continent.

The Mozart siblings by Eusebius Johann Alphen, 1765

Maria Anna's illustrious career did not last long though and at the age of eighteen she was no longer a precocious musical talent, but a young lady ripe for marriage. For her, there would be no more tours of Europe and no more high society recitals; instead, she remained in Salzburg looking for a suitable spouse whilst her brother continued his career.

As Leopold controlled his daughter's early career, so too did she defer to her father in matters of the heart. Despite Wolfgang's encouragement to do what she wanted, she turned down a marriage proposal from her first love, Franz d'Ippold, and waited for a more suitable match. At the age of 22 she finally married twice-widowed magistrate Johann Baptist Franz von Berchtold zu Sonnenburg, becoming stepmother to his five children. The family settled in the Austrian village of St. Gilgen and had three children of their own.

Still under her father's influence, Maria Anna entrusted the care of her first child, Leopold, to him after his birth in 1785. The reasons for this unusual decision remain unknown and the boy stayed in Salzburg until his grandfather's death in 1787, at which point little Leopold returned to his family, already having commenced his musical training. She did not see Wolfgang at all after 1783 and the two siblings drifted apart as their lives took very different paths.

When Maria Anna was widowed in 1801, she moved her children and stepchildren to Salzburg and took employment as a music teacher. Nineteen years later and nearly three decades after Wolfgang's death, she encountered his widow, Constanze, and her second husband Georg Nikolaus von Nissen. Two years after this she finally met Wolfgang's son, Franz Xaver Mozart, who had come to Salzurg to conduct a performance of the Requiem in honour of the newly-deceased Nissen.

Maria Anna's health failed in her later years; when she died she left a fortune in trust and was buried in St Peter's Cemetery, Salzburg. Though it is believed that she wrote some compositions none now survive and the woman who once topped the Mozart family billing is almost forgotten, a footnote in the story of her younger brother's own tragedy.

To find out more about the premiere of Mozart's Don Giovanni, do click here!