Mozart’s Musical Journey 13 February 1782: Piano Concerto No. 5, K. 175 with new Finale K. 382

 by Georg Predota  February 13th, 2019

Mozart at the Keyboard

Trying to establish himself in Vienna, Wolfgang Amadeus was incredibly busy as he writes to his sister. “You must not suppose, from my not answering you, that you and your letters are troublesome. I shall always, dearest sister, with the utmost delight receive a letter from you, and if indispensable business (in pursuit of my livelihood) permitted it, God knows I would answer you at once… Our father when he has finished his duties in church, and you when you have done with your few pupils, can both do as you please for the rest of the day, and write letters full of doleful litanies, but not so with me. At six o’clock in the morning I have my hair dressed, and have finished my toilet by seven o’clock. I compose till nine. From nine to one I give lessons. I then dine, unless I am invited out, when dinner is usually at two o’clock, sometimes at three. I cannot begin to work before five or six o’clock in the evening, and I am often prevented doing so by some concert, otherwise I compose till nine o’clock.”

Mozart was in a real rush as he was putting together the program for his first public concert in Vienna. Scheduled for 3 March 1782, Mozart revived one of his Salzburg piano concertos and composed a completely new Finale movement. He would subsequently report that the “new concerto finale was making a furor in Vienna.” Mozart also prepared the concerto K. 415, numbers from Lucio Silla and Idomeneo, and a free fantasy. But work was not the only thing to keep him busy, as he continues in his “I then go to my dear Constanze, though our pleasure in meeting is frequently embittered by the unkind speeches of her mother, which I will explain to my father in my next letter. Thence comes my wish to liberate and rescue her as soon as possible. At half-past ten or eleven I go home, but this depends on the mother’s humor, or on my patience in bearing it. Owing to the number of concerts, and also the uncertainty whether I may not be summoned to one place or another, I cannot rely on my evening writing, so it is my custom to compose for a time before going to bed. I often sit up composing until one, and rise again at six.”