Introduction
Back in the 17th and 18th centuries, people went on grand tours across Europe for a variety of reasons, but mainly to become cultured and cosmopolitan through exposure to classical antiquity, and the spread of new ideas. Perceived as the capital of music, Italy was the destination of young musicians on their grand tours (Sadie, 176). In many ways, Italy was a finishing school for musicians. As Mozart’s Grand Tour was his finishing school, my thesis on
Mozart’s Grand Tour of Italy will conclude my studies here at this institution. I hope that this capstone will take the reader on a Grand Tour of Italy to trace the points in Mozart’s journey that were pivotal in his development as a traveler, student, composer, and individual.
In a world dominated by social media, we tell our stories all the time, but we cover it in filters. Although Mozart’s story has long been told by generations of biographers, scholars, and musicologists, it too has been filtered. My capstone searches for what principles drive each revision of Mozart scholarship. There is a “long-standing biographical tradition that Mozart was fundamentally a ‘genius-in-isolation,’ largely untouched (except in negative ways) by the world around him” (Eisen, 3). Historically, we have fetishized the idea of a lone Mozart born with talents cultivated away from the public eye. While I can neither assert nor disregard his prodigious skills, I believe that we can somewhat trace Mozart’s development, or at the very least, find what may have influenced him during his Grand Tour.
When we study history, we do so by looking through a lens of the present. This capstone will alternate between passages of my own narrative of present-day Italy and Mozart’s unfiltered narrative of eighteenth century Italy. While abroad, my primary method of study was observation. Over the course of my travels, I kept a detailed journal of my observations, experiences, and emerging questions. I searched for evidence that Mozart still has a place in Italy through displays, statues, or plaques. Based on my field notes, I wrote letters home, like Mozart, and excerpts of those letters are interspersed through the narrative. The letters composed by the
Mozart family during the Grand Tours are particularly interesting because they include details on what eighteenth-century society was like. My intention is to present young Wolfgang as accurately as possible, and to gleam significance from the things that Mozart saw and did while in Italy. Up until now, in the vast collection of Mozart scholarship, the records of Mozart’s
Grand Tour in Italy have been organized chronologically (Barenreiter). By researching his Grand
Tour and organizing it by theme and location, I hope to gain a better sense of who Mozart was and what makes his image and music endure through time.
Between 1769 and 1773, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and his father Leopold Mozart traveled to Italy three times. The first and longest trip, which I consider to be the Grand Tour, was about fifteen months and lasted from December 1769 to March 1771. This tour was largely paid for by nobility or public concerts and was more focused on Mozart’s growth as a musician and composer. The second and third visits were focused on securing a position in high society. The second trip to Italy was from August 1771 to December 1771, lasting about four months, and the third trip was from October 1772 to March 1773. When they first left Salzburg in December
1769, young Mozart was 13 years old. By the time they reached Milan in January 1770, he was about to turn 14, and this is where his grand tour truly began.
Playing for Free in Milan
On my Grand Tour, I arrived in Milan on June 26th, 2017 just in time to see the last performance of Mozart’s “Die Entführung aus dem Serail” or “The Abduction of the Seraglio” (figure 1) before the performance schedule switched back to the ever popular “La Bohème.” Both a museum and functioning opera house, La Scala is beautifully lined with red velvet and gold ornamentation everywhere (figure 2). In the center of the auditorium there was a large, ornate chandelier that glistened with hundreds of glittering crystals. When I visited the museum, I was in awe. Never changing, the lower floor contained thousands of historic relics like the portraits and batons of famous singers and conductors. There were beautiful costumes worn by opera singers on display and historic instruments behind glass cases. In contrast to the preservation and old style of the lower floor, the upper floor exhibit was equipped with monitors showing short documentaries, headphones playing samples of music, and interactive displays. There was a small section on the upper floor that listed famous figures at La Scala, and I noticed that
Mozart was not there.
On his first Grand Tour, Mozart arrived in Milan on January 23rd, 1770, and both Leopold and Wolfgang wrote home on the 26th. Leopold’s letter to his wife account of their first few days of travel and how nerve-wracking their finances seem.
You must know, that neither this concert in Mantua nor the one in Verona were given for money, for everybody goes in free; in Verona this privilege belongs only to the nobles who alone keep up these concerts; but in Mantua the nobles, the military class and the eminent citizens may all attend them, because they are subsidized by Her Majesty the Empress. You will easily understand that we shall not become rich in Italy and you will admit that we shall do well enough if we earn our travelling expenses; and these I have always earned (Anderson, 108:
Letter 77).
Wolfgang’s letter to his sister (Anderson, 110: Letter 77a), gives a very detailed account of
Demetrio, an opera he saw in Mantua. His lengthy letter gives a recap of every singer in the opera and his own appraisal of their talents. From it, I sense how excited Mozart is to take in opera, the music of Italy. Here we have a boy and his father traveling around Italy for quite a few different reasons. Leopold Mozart, while ever worrying about day-to-day finances, is also concerned with eventually finding Wolfgang a permanent position somewhere where his son can have financial security and well-being. Accordingly, he is always networking with the nobles, asking for an audience, giving free concerts, and taking commissions. Wolfgang is much more carefree. He is motivated to travel to hear and absorb as much as he can. Other than the occasional bad weather, the stresses of travel do not sit as heavily on Wolfgang’s shoulder as they do on his father.
The pair stayed in Milan for two months, performing and composing for Count Firmian, governor of Lombardy, when on March 13th, Wolfgang received a commission to write his first
Italian opera, Mitridate, Rè di Ponto (Anderson, 118: Letter 83). After the matter was set in stone, they set off with letters of introduction from Count Firmian for Parma, Florence, Rome, and Naples. They had to leave straightaway if they wanted to make it to Rome in time for
Passion week.
Pirating the Miserere in Rome
On June 6th, 2017, I visited Saint Peter’s Basilica and the Vatican museum. I climbed the narrow staircase up to the top of Saint Peter’s Basilica, and from up there it seemed like I could see all of Rome (figure 3). I went back down to join the masses as we dawdled through the museum.
When I reached the Sistine Chapel, the crowd was silent. Everyone stared at the walls and ceiling in awe. I craned my neck up to see Michelangelo’s paintings—images that changed the course of Western art history. The room felt heavy with soundless reverence. When a man dropped his notebook, all eyes were on him. It was hard to imagine what it must be like to hear mass in the Sistine Chapel.
For four months, Rome had constant rain. Completely drenched, Leopold and Wolfgang had trudged through uncultivated country to attend mass two days in a row at the Sistine Chapel to hear the Miserere. On April 14th, 1770, Leopold wrote home to his wife (Anderson, 127: Letter
87).
You have often heard of the famous Miserere in Rome, which is so greatly prized that the performers in the chapel are forbidden on pain of excommunication to take away a single part of it, to copy it or to give it to anyone. But we have it already. Wolfgang has written it down… as it is one of the secrets of Rome, we do not wish to let it fall into other hands, ut non incurramus mediate vel immediate in censuram Ecclesiae (so that we shall not incur the censure of the
Church now or later).
The Miserere of Gregorio Allegri (1582-1652) from Psalm 51 was commissioned by Pope Clement XIV in the 1630s as an exclusive hymn for use in the Sistine Chapel. For almost 140 years, that proclamation was honored, and only those attending services in the Sistine Chapel would hear the Miserere. With his talent, Wolfgang wrote down the entire piece note for note from memory. To be as accurate as possible, it must be emphasized that Wolfgang had the opportunity to attend mass a second time to hear the Miserere once more to compare his score with the sung version.
The Miserere is a piece that stands out to most people, due to the soaring high C sung by the boy treble. Because of its enduring popularity from the eighteenth century to present day, it is worth mentioning that this piece has become quite popular on the internet as a viral video of a young choir boy taking a breath from a balloon full of helium so that he can reach that high C.
When I entered Saint Peter’s Basilica, I was struck by the perfect symmetry of the church. Every marble column and side chapel reflected balance and stability. The cavernous ceiling let in the light such that it seemed to make a halo on some statues. I found myself in a swarm of people headed deeper into the church. What else could there possibly be to see? Emerging from the side, was the tall statue of Saint Peter. People stopped one by one to pay their respects and to touch his feet for good luck. I, too, rubbed his nearly-worn toes.
Perhaps, to Wolfgang, copying down the Miserere is just another task he did during his day. In his letter to his mother and sister, he does not even mention his amazing feat (pun intended).
Instead, he goes on about the marvels of the things in Rome, even drawing his sister a picture.
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 honour 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.
(Anderson, 128: Letter 87a)
They stayed in Rome for quite a while, busy sightseeing and visiting with various nobles:
Elizabeth, Countess of Effingham, Charles Edward, the young pretender, and William Beckford of Somerley. Leopold gives a long and detailed account of these somewhat-famous acquaintances in his letter home to his wife (Anderson, 129: Letter 88). In contrast, Wolfgang’s letter to his sister is much less boastful. He talks about the things he has seen and the music he is working on. For him, this adventure is nourishing.
Yesterday we were at San Lorenzo and heard vespers, and this morning the Mass which was sung, and in the evening the second vespers, because it is the festival of Our Lady of Good
Counsel. During the last few days we have been to the Campidoglio (Capitoline Hill) and have seen several fine things. If I were to write down all that I have seen, this small sheet would not suffice. I have played at two concerts and tomorrow I am playing at another… When I have finished this letter I shall finish a symphony [K. 95, K. 97, K. 81, or K,73] which I have begun.
(Anderson, 131: Letter 89)
They stayed at the house of Principessa Barberini, today Palazzo Barberini, National Gallery of Ancient Art.
On June 1st, 2017, I visited the National Gallery of Ancient Art. The entire building, once known as Palazzo Barberini, was designed for Pope Urban VIII, a member of the Barberini family.
Walking into the atrium, I was astounded by the rococo style architecture and the baroque paintings that lined the walls. Looking up, I saw figures on the ceiling that seemed to come out of the wall. The space resonated with every sound, and I thought that surely Mozart must have played music in this room underneath this painting.
They left Rome on May 8th to travel to Naples, Pompeii, and various other surrounding cities.
Of course, they continued to see opera and perform for nobles, but before long, they were summoned back to Rome by Pope Clement XIV.
This very moment a servant of Cardinal Pallavicini has invited us to lunch with His Eminence tomorrow. We are dining on Friday with His Excellency the Tuscan Ambassador Baron Sant’
Odile. Tomorrow we are to hear a piece of news which, if it is true, will fill you both with amazement. For Cardinal Pallavicini is said to have been commanded by the Pope to hand
Wolfgang the cross and diploma of an order.
(Anderson, p. 148, Letter 101)
It is unclear exactly how the Pope learned of Mozart’s piracy of the Miserere, but instead of excommunicating the young boy, the Pope praised his musical talent, and on July 8th, 1770,
Pope Clement XIV conferred onto Mozart The Order of the Golden Spur.
What I wrote the other day about the cross of an order is quite correct. It is the same order as
Gluck’s and is worded as follows: to creamus autatae militia equitem. (We create you a Knight of the Golden Spur.) Wolfgang has to wear a beautiful gold cross, which he has received. You can imagine how I laugh when I hear people calling him ‘Signor Cavaliere’ all the time.
Tomorrow we are to have an audience with the Pope.
(Anderson, p. 148, Letter 102)
Studying Composition in Bologna
Shortly after meeting with the Pope, Leopold and Wolfgang set off for Bologna sometime in mid-July. Within a week they finally receive news of the opera that Wolfgang is to write. On
July 28th, they received the libretto and the list of singers for the opera, Mitridate, Rè di Ponto.
Mitridate, Rè di Ponto is an opera seria in three acts that follows King Mitridates VI Eupator,
King of Pontus. Mitridate leaves his young fiancée, Princess Aspasia, with his sons, Sifare and
Farnace, and fakes his death to test the loyalty of his sons. Carefree as always, Wolfgang spends the rest of his summer in Bologna immersed in other tasks. On August 4th, 1770, he writes to his sister:
It is impossible for me to write a better hand, for this pen is for writing music and not for letters.
My fiddle has now been restrung and I play every day. But I add this simply because Mamma wanted to know whether I still play the fiddle. More than six times at least I have had the honour of going alone to a church and to some magnificent function. In the meantime, I have composed four Italian symphonies [probably K. 81, 84, 95, 97, Köchel, p 104-105], to say nothing of arias, of which I must have composed at least five or six [K. 77, 78m 79, 92, 88], and also a motet
[possibly K. 117, WSF, vol. i., p 285].
(Anderson, 153: Letter 106a)
Indeed, it would seem that Mozart put off composing an opera by composing other music.
During the month of August, Joseph Mysliveček (1737-1781) came by often to visit Wolfgang.
Born in Prague, Mysliveček studied music in Italy and composed several operas for Naples, Bologna and Munich. Known as “Il divino Boëmo,” the divine Bohemian, Mysliveček provided
Wolfgang with significant compositional models for symphonies, opera, and concerti. The musicologist, Daniel E. Freeman has compared Mitridate, re di Ponto to La Nitteti by
Mysliveček and demonstrated that Wolfgang must have gained expertise from Mysliveček as some of the motifs from La Nitteti were incorporated into Mozart’s opera. Continuing his carefree regime, Wolfgang spent nearly all of August studying contrapuntal composition with
Mysliveček until late September, three months before the opera is to be performed, when he finally began writing the recitatives for Mitridate, Rè di Ponto (Anderson, 163: Letter 115).
As I wandered through the city, I noticed students everywhere. Some were biking hurriedly somewhere, and others were lounging at pastry shops. With all the colleges in town, it is no wonder that the city would be bustling with young people everywhere. I heard a drummer from far away. Following the sound, I found the source in the central plaza. As I looked down the main street, I saw many more street performers. They varied from serious musicians practicing their most difficult repertoire to casual students playing popular film themes for spare change.
Across the street was a trio with a violin, guitar, and accordion that played Astor Piazzolla’s
Libertango. Listening to them was like a glimpse into the past, and without a doubt, I was sure that even eighteenth-century Bologna had many street musicians. I walked down the avenue listening to all the musicians when I found myself at the Giovanni Battista Martini Conservatory of Music. A bulletin board showed upcoming concerts (figure 4), and on June 25th, 2017, there was going to be a vocal recital of opera selections.
Wolfgang had much to learn if he was going to write an Italian opera. While also studying with his primary teacher, his father, young Wolfgang had the opportunity of a lifetime to study with Giovanni Battista Martini during his time in Bologna. From a young age, Martini had already demonstrated his talent in music performance and composition, receiving the appointment of chapel-master at the Basilica di San Francesco. In 1758, Martini was invited to teach at the Accademia Filarmonica di Bologna. Known as Padre Martini, or Father Martini, he became known throughout Europe as a composer, theoretician, teacher, and even a scholar of mathematics and acoustics. He was not known as a nostalgic composer who loved the music of the past; in fact, he was willing to learn and use new ideas, particularly in the concertato style, as the music trends headed towards the classical style. In addition to Martini’s innovative tendencies, he also coveted a massive collection of repertoire from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries which included everything music-related from incunabula to opera librettos. Estimated to be around 17,000 volumes, his collection has been cherished and kept safe through the centuries. His pupil and successor, Stanislao Mattei, ensured the library was safe from
Napoleon’s confiscations in the later decades. The collection was donated to the Liceo Musicale del Comune di Bologna (Music High School of the City Council of Bologna) which today is the
Giovanni B. Martini Conservatory, which was officially established in 1804.
Surrounded by knowledge, Wolfgang studied hard, and on October 9th, 1770, Wolfgang took an exam for his Kapellmeister diploma, which he seemed to pass with flying colors. He was given a random antiphon, “Quaerite Prinum Regnum Dei,” which was used as a motto and means “Seek ye first, the kingdom of God.” An antiphon is a short chant sung or recited before or after a psalm or canticle. This antiphon is for the fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, during vespers. Locked in a room for an entire afternoon, Wolfgang had to arrange the antiphon for four parts in strict counterpoint with ancient style or a capella. In figure 5, we see the antiphon in the
Liber Usualis. As the transcription of an oral tradition, chants from the Christian liturgy exist in different forms in different antiphoners. The one that Wolfgang used was from the Roman antiphoner (Avanzi, 12). Even though it is from a different antiphoner than the one Wolfgang used, it is amazing to see the similarities in that antiphon and Wolfgang’s arrangement of what should have been a slightly different antiphon. Wolfgang had already encountered such counterpoint exercises in composition lessons with Martini, thus preparing him for such a demanding test. After he had finished, the Censores, Kapellmeisters, and Compositores of the academy anonymously voted on his arrangement.
Then a vote was taken, which was done by means of white and black balls. As all the balls were white, Wolfgang was called in and all the members clapped their hands as he entered and congratulated him, and the Princeps Accademia informed him, on behalf of the company, that he had passed the examination. -Leopold Mozart
(Anderson, p. 165, letter 117)
Though Wolfgang was a child prodigy, he still had room to grow, and musicologist Pietro
Avanzi suggests that he did not necessarily pass this test on his own merit (Avanzi, 13). While preparing him for this exam, Martini’s journal reveals that he was very nervous, particularly about the strict rules of the Accademia. For certain, Martini thought that the traditional approach of the Accademia was going to conflict with Wolfgang’s creative mind and daring performance style.
Stored in the International Museum and Library of Music in Bologna, there exist three surviving arrangements of the antiphon. Two of them are in Wolfgang’s handwriting (figure 6a,
6b, and 7), and one is in Martini’s handwriting (figure 8a and 8b). Certainly not a revision of
Wolfgang’s piece, the antiphon in Martini’s handwriting seems to be a completely original work compared to the other two. There is no explanation for why these all exist, but Avanzi claims that Martini may have written the antiphon for Mozart which he then copied. Martini knew the title of “master composer” was extremely difficult to obtain. In no way was Martini judging the quality of Wolfgang’s piece, but rather he was trying to determine what was acceptable according to the rules of the Accademia. His end goal was to avoid conflicts among the jury as he wanted the entire committee, with no exceptions, to agree that Wolfgang would be granted the title of “master composer.” Martini likely did not do this as a favor to Wolfgang, but as a way to preserve his own prestige. Out of respect and admiration, Wolfgang would have accepted such a proposal.
The claim that Wolfgang cheated on this exam is fantastical, though still insightful. Avanzi is not a prominent scholar, and Musicaaa!, the journal his article was published in, is not known for publishing undeniably fact-checked documents. Yet, it still deserves mentioning because with the vast scholarship we have on Mozart, this is the only article written on the antiphon—every other Mozart source simply gives a recap of Leopold’s record. On top of being an obscure scholar, further proof that Wolfgang did not cheat on that exam is in a letter he wrote later in his life. On September 29th, 1777, Mozart wrote:
I have been three times to Italy already, I have written three operas, I am a member of the
Bologna Academy, where I had to pass a test, at which many maestri have labored and sweated for four or five hours, but which I finished in an hour. Let that be a proof that I am competent to serve at any Court. (Anderson, 286: Letter 212c).
For every famous person, place, or thing, there will always be a small group of people who doubt everything about it. Take, for example, Luca Bianchini and Anna Trombetta who self- published a book in 2016 called, Mozart: The Fall of the Gods that demystifies the myth of
Mozart. This small minority is never completely correct, but there is not enough evidence to say they are completely wrong either. I believe the circumstances around this exam are unique because Wolfgang was a unique student, and thus I offer no explanation as to why there exist these three versions of the antiphon. Perhaps Martini was so inspired by Mozart’s arrangement that he had to try his own hand at arranging the same antiphon.
Relieved, I sat down in the third row of seats. Who would have known that the concert would take place not on campus, but in a single functional room in a museum? Frescoed with greenery and adorned with large paintings, the cavernous room reverberated with every sound. I turned to my program and gleefully discovered that half of the program was by Mozart. As I listened, I was enthralled by the students. Technically advanced and artistic, each student brought out the personality of the music and the emotion within me. I thought that if I were to draw a music genealogy tree, each and every one of them would be descendant of Giovanni B. Martini.
Producing an Opera in Milan
I cannot write much, for my fingers are aching from composing so many recitatives. Mamma, I beg you to pray for me, that my opera may go well and that we may be happy together again.
(Anderson, 166: Letter 117a)
After receiving the honor of “Master Composer,” it seemed like Bologna, the heart of academia, had nothing more to offer Wolfgang. Additionally, it was time for Wolfgang to work on his opera, which would premiere on December 26th. They reached Milan on October 18th,
1770. Not far from the theatre, in a large room with a balcony, three windows, and a fireplace, sat Wolfgang hard at work. He composed feverishly until he came across his first obstacle.
God be praised, we have won the first battle and have defeated an enemy, who brought to the prima donna’s house all the arias which she was to sing in our opera and tried to persuade her not to sing any of Wolfgang’s. We have seen them all and they are all new, but neither she nor we know who composed them. But she gave that wretch a flat refusal, and she is now beside herself with delight at the arias which Wolfgang has composed to suit her. So also is her maestro, Signor Lampugnani, who is rehearsing her part with her and who cannot sufficiently praise them; for when we called on her today, she happened to be studying her first aria with him. But a second storm, which we can already see in the distance, is gathering in the theatrical sky.
(Anderson, 170: Letter 120)
Energized by the outcome of the situation, Wolfgang prepared for other bumps in the road.
To put on such a large opera, requires a massive collaboration, and as an outsider, Wolfgang, had to carefully navigate through the factions to earn support for his music. In late November,
Wolfgang was to meet with the primo uomo (male lead), but of course, it would not all go as intended. Shockingly late in the opera production schedule, on November 24th, 1770, Leopold writes:
Wolfgang has his hands full now, as the time is getting on and he has only composed one aria for the primo uomo, because the latter has not yet arrived and because Wolfgang refuses to do the work twice over and prefers to wait for his arrival so as to fit the costume to his figure.
(Anderson, 171: Letter 122)
With no primo uomo, there was nothing Wolfgang could do. Not one to sit around anxiously,
Wolfgang attended a concert at Count Firmian’s house, and on December 1st, Leopold wrote home:
He (Baron Riedheim, a friend from Salzburg who also attended the concert) will have told you also what a wretched orchestra performed at that concert. For these good people have all gone off to the country with their patrons and it will be eight or twelve days before they return for the rehearsals of the opera. You think that the opera is already finished, but you are greatly mistaken. If it had depended on our son alone, two operas would have been ready by now. But in
Italy everything is quite mad. You will hear all about this later on, for it would take too long to tell you everything. At the time I write, the primo uomo has not yet arrived, but he will certainly arrive today.
(Anderson, 172: Letter 123)
Dangerously close to the premiere on the 26th, the next few weeks would determine if the opera would be successful or not. Wolfgang had done all that he could with each of the singers that he had access to, and it was time for the rehearsals to begin.
The first rehearsal with instruments took place on the 12th, but there were only sixteen players, and this rehearsal was held in order to discover whether the score had been copied correctly. On the 17th we shall have the first rehearsal with the full orchestra, which will consist of… sixty players in all.
Before the first rehearsal with the small orchestra took place, there were plenty of people who cynically described the music beforehand as miserable immature stuff and thus prophesied its failure, because, as they maintained, it was impossible for such a young boy, and, what is more, a German, to write an Italian opera or, great virtuoso though he might be, to grasp and apply the chiaro ed oscuro (dark and light elements) which is necessary for the theatre. But since the evening of the first short rehearsal all these people have been silent and have not uttered a syllable. The copyist is absolutely delighted, which is a good omen in Italy, where, if the music is a success, the copyist by selling the arias sometimes makes more money than the Kapellmeister does by his composition. The singers are quite satisfied and indeed altogether delighted, and especially the prima donna and the primo uomo, who are simply enchanted with their duet. The primo uomo has actually said that if this duet does not go down, he will let himself be castrated again. (Anderson, 174: Letter 125)
Fortunately for the primo uomo, he would not have to be castrated once more, for the opera was received enthusiastically according to Leopold’s account:
God be praised, the first performance of the opera took place on the 26th and won general applause; and two things, which have never yet happened in Milan, occurred on that evening.
First of all, contrary to the custom of a first night, an aria of the prima donna was repeated, though usually at a first performance the audience never call out ‘fuora’. Secondly, after almost all the arias, with the exception of a few at the end, there was extraordinary applause and cries of: ‘Evviva il Maestro! Evviva il Maestrino!’
(Anderson, 176: Letter 127)
It is not hard to imagine how proud Leopold was of Wolfgang. With the great difference in public opinion before and after the opera, Wolfgang had overwhelmingly proven to the naysayers that the music he wrote was not miserable nor immature. Indeed, all his hard work had paid off.
You know that in Italy everyone is given a different name. For instance, Hasse is called Sassone,
Galuppo is called Buranello, and so forth. They have christened our son Il Signor Cavaliere
Filarmonico.
(Anderson, 177: Letter 127)
Enjoying the Carnival in Venice
As the Maestro was only required to conduct the opera from the orchestra for the first three evenings, Wolfgang and Leopold spent the rest of their time in Milan celebrating the opera’s success and paying visits to various friends and acquaintances. A year had passed since
Wolfgang left home. He was about to turn 15 years old in January. Now that the opera was done, it was time for them to return home to Salzburg, but not before enjoying the remainder of carnival season in Venice.
Owing to shocking weather and a violent gale we only reached Venice early on Carnival
Monday (February 11th). In the afternoon we managed to find Herr Wider, who, with his wife, accompanied us to the opera. On Tuesday we lunched with him and went to the opera, which began at two and went on until seven.
(Anderson, 181: Letter 132)
Wolfgang and Leopold wanted to be back home in Salzburg by Passion Week and the
Eastertide, but until then, they had about a month in Venice which they spent mostly seeing opera and socializing with nobles. Funny enough, Wolfgang was able to see an opera buffa that he wrote back in 1768, La finta semplice, or The Fake Innocent (Anderson, 181: Letter 132).
There is no way to know how Wolfgang felt about seeing his opera performed in Venice.
Perhaps he would have been pleased by it, or maybe he found fault with how it was produced.
There is significance in the fact that Leopold wrote home about seeing Wolfgang’s opera, but
Wolfgang only wrote a small postscript sending his mother his love. As the pair spent their evenings seeing opera, they spent their days enjoying carnival season and exploring Venice.
I arrived in Venice on Saturday, July 1st, 2017. I had seen massive crowds before, but nothing like this. As it was the weekend, everyone and their mother was out sightseeing. With small alleyways, the crowd funneled towards the South. I left myself be taken along with the horde, and in about twenty minutes, the alleyway opened up to a large plaza—St. Mark’s square. I gaped in awe at St. Mark’s Basilica, and the Doge’s Palace. If only I could have seen Venice in the high of carnival season. At least the street vendors seem to always have carnival masks.
Thank God, we are well, and we are always being invited out, now here and now there. So the gondolas of our hosts are constantly in front of our house and every day we ride on the Grande
Canal.
(Anderson, 183: Letter 134)
Thinking back to Wolfgang’s directions, I remembered that he stayed by the San Fantin canal, over the Barcaroli bridge, and in the Cavaletti house. Before I left my quarters on July 4th, 2017,
I found the Barcaroli river on a map and saw that there were five bridges across this river, three in the North, and two in the South. Although maze-like, everything in Venice is extremely concentrated, and with smaller footpaths and no cars, it only takes a bit of walking to get anywhere. After wandering around the Southern bridges, I came upon this plaque on a building that was dedicated to Wolfgang’s stay (figure 9 and 10). The bottom floor seemed to be home to a mask shop, and the upper levels seemed to be residential apartments. Right next to the
Barcaroli river, it would seem that this location was perfect, for it was nearby St. Mark’s square and the theatres.
In the 1990s, Professor Paolo Cattelan did extensive research on where the Mozarts stayed in
Venice. He affirms that the location of the plaque is in the wrong place, but not by much—only by about 100 feet. At first glance, this small discrepancy may not seem to matter, but it does because the claims made today about where Mozart was in Venice impacts the fame and significance of these places. The place where the Mozarts stayed was on the San Fantin canal, over the Barcaroli bridge, and in the Cavaletti house, however, there is no Cavaletti family in public records. Cattelan asserts that Cavaletti was Mozart’s German misspelling, since “V” is pronounced as “F” in German. Therefore, he concluded that Mozart must have stayed in Ca’
Faletti (Ca’ being short for house in the Venetian dialect). However, House Faletti is not where the plaque is located. The location of the plaque and where Cattelan thinks Mozart stayed are less than 100 feet apart on the street, del Cuoridoro. Today, House Faletti is known as Palazzo
Molin. Palazzo Molin has an English website selling luxury apartments, and the website has a little section on the building’s history, and an even longer section on Mozart’s stay in Venice and
Cattelan’s book, Mozart, un mese a Venezia. In short, Palazzo Molin is selling luxury apartments by advertising that this is where Mozart stayed centuries ago. Because of this blatant use of
Cattelan’s research to get more fame and publicity, I am wary of the motive to claim this bit of history. I am inclined to think that where the plaque is located is more accurate because the plaque was installed by the City of Venice for the 200th anniversary of Mozart’s visit in 1971, and if Cattelan’s research was infallibly credible, he would have convinced the City of Venice to change the dedication. However, it is possible that the City of Venice simply did not care to change the plaque after seeing Cattelan’s research because the plaque serves its purpose as a hidden gem that tourists can find following the directions in the letter, and for the small discrepancy of less than 100 feet, accuracy might not be worth the cost and effort of moving the plaque.
Regardless of which building Wolfgang stayed in, the important part of his time in Venice was not so much the room where he slept, but the significance of Wolfgang’s diminished role as a composer. He could simply enjoy the Carnival season and Venetian fine arts as an on-looker.
Nowhere else on his Grand Tour could Wolfgang leisurely hear music and opera as he was always in demand as a performer and composer. While he was still busy with social obligations to meet many people, here in Venice, he could at least sit in the audience.
On Monday the—no, on Tuesday the 12th we left Venice, but we let everybody think that we were off on Monday, in order to have one day free in which to pack in peace.
(Anderson, 183: Letter 134)
I kiss Mamma’s hand and I kiss Nannerl thousands of times. Thank God, I am well and I hope to see and talk to you both very soon.
(Anderson, 187: Letter 137a)
Exhausted from their Grand Tour, the Mozarts traveled home to Salzburg. Never again would Wolfgang have the opportunity to travel around Italy. After this, Wolfgang only traveled back to Italy twice, and only to Milan to write an opera each time. Despite not having found a permanent position in Italian society, Italy left a lasting impression on Wolfgang.
Conclusion
When I started playing violin, I learned to play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. I clearly remember struggling with the bowings in the last Suzuki variation, and I vividly remember the sense of accomplishment I felt when I finally got it. When I was in high school, I made many fond memories with my quartet playing Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, the Haydn string quartets, and various Mozart Divertiment. As a Colorado College student, I did not think I would be a music major, but it was after taking the class Mozart and his Age in the 7th block of my first year that I was certain I wanted to pursue my studies in music, and now, my senior capstone is on Mozart.
In the vast realm of Mozart scholarship, not much information is available on his Grand Tour of Italy, but by taking another look at the letters written during his tour, we take a closer look at who Mozart was at the age of 14, and how he developed during his travels. Telling his story again using the lens of the 21st century gives new meaning to his legacy as the intention of this narrative was to present Mozart as accurately as possible based off of his writing and his actions as narrated by Leopold. Certainly, he has demonstrated his prodigious skill in many capacities.
In Rome, with his piracy of the Miserere, he showed off his innate talents. Studying hard in
Bologna, he earned the title of “Master Composer” after he swept the Kapellmeisters off their feet with his antiphon arrangement. Additionally, he has shown his ability to continually exceed expectations. In Milan when the public opinion was that Mozart, a German boy, was too young to comprehend an opera with mature themes, he defied all odds when his first Italian opera,
Mitridate, Rè di Ponto, proved to be overwhelmingly successful. He did all these amazing deeds in those cities, but in Venice, he had the opportunity to sit back and appreciate the Carnival season. The view that Mozart was an isolated genius does not hold as well now that we have seen the things he did and saw.
We will never be able to fully comprehend what this Grand Tour meant to Mozart, but from my own first-hand experience, traveling to new places provides an education that no school can provide, and gives perspective from other cultures that would be unattainable from back home.
From an outsider’s point of view, I looked at how modern Italian society continues to perpetuate
Mozart’s lasting legacy. With this, I have shined a new light on who Mozart was and I hope readers will have found something in our story that they can relate to, but also something new to take with them on their own Grand Tours.
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Works Cited
Avanzi, Pietro. “L'Antiphona Martini-Mozart.” Musicaaa!, vol. 8, no. 25, Sept. 2002, pp. 12–15.,
maren.interfree.it/.
Burney, Charles. The Present State of Music. Broude Brothers, 1969.
Deutsch, Otto Erich. Mozart: A Documentary Biography. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1965. Print.
Freeman, Daniel E. Mozart in Prague. Bearclaw Publishers, 2013.
Gutman, Robert W. Mozart: A Cultural Biography. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1999. Print.
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, Leopold Mozart, Emily Anderson, A. Hyatt King, and Monica
Carolan. The Letters of Mozart and His Family. London: Macmillan, 1966. Print.
Sadie, Stanley, and Neal Zaslaw. Mozart, the Early Years: 1756-1781. Oxford: Oxford UP,
2006. Print.
Solomon, Maynard. Mozart: A Life. New York, NY: HarperCollinsPublishers, 1995. Print.