What Happened to Bach’s Twenty Children?

By Emily E. Hogstadt, Interlude

Johann Sebastian Bach is, of course, one of the most beloved composers of all time. He’s also famous for having fathered twenty children. A few became famous composers in their own right…but many of them died tragically young, too. Today we’re taking a look at the lives of all twenty of them.

J.S. Bach © biography.com

Maria Barbara Bach was Bach’s first wife (and his second cousin). They were married on 17 October 1707, and they had seven kids.

Catharina Dorothea (1708-1774)

We don’t know a lot about Catharina Dorothea, but we do know she was a singer. In 1730, Bach wrote to a friend, “[My children] are born musicians, and I can already form an ensemble both vocal and instrumental within my family, particularly since my present wife sings a good, clear soprano, and my eldest daughter, too, joins in not badly.” Seems like high praise from Bach, a known perfectionist!

It makes sense that Catharina Dorothea would be a well-trained musician. For many years, all of her surviving siblings were brothers, and she no doubt absorbed the musical instruction offered to boys of the era…and especially to the Bach boys.

Wilhelm Friedemann (1710-1784)

Wilhelm Friedemann Bach, drawing by P. Gulle, 1783
© Berlin State Library

Bach’s eldest son was the inspiration behind Klavierbüchlein für Wilhelm Friedemann Bach, a collection of keyboard music. He studied law and mathematics but ultimately ended up a professional musician and teacher. Despite all of his training, Wilhelm Friedemann never became a wealthy musician, and he died in poverty. 

Twins Johann Christoph and Maria Sophia (1713-1713)

Johann Christoph died the same day that he was born, 23 February 1713. Tragically, his twin Maria only survived a little longer, until March 15.

Carl Philipp Emanuel (1714-1788)

Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach

A little less than a year after Maria Sophia died, Carl Philip Emanuel Bach, later known as C.P.E. Bach, was born. He would prove to be an important link between the Baroque style of music that his father wrote and the next generation’s lighter, more classical approach, as typified by Haydn and Mozart. That said, he was never able to truly escape the giant shadow cast by his father. 

Johann Gottfried Bernhard (1715-1739)

If Johann Gottfried Bernhard Bach wrote any music, none of it has survived. He did, however, study and work as an organist. Unfortunately, it seems that he lived beyond his means (Johann Sebastian once referred to him as “misguided”), and he accumulated debts as a young man. He abandoned music to study law, but before he finished his law training, he died suddenly of a high fever at the age of 24.

Leopold Augustus (1718-1719)

Poor Leopold Augustus died when he was just ten months old, in September 1719.

Less than a year after Leopold Augustus’ death, Maria Barbara Bach died, too. According to an obituary cowritten by C.P.E. Bach, she passed away unexpectedly in July of 1720. To make matters worse, Bach was traveling for work at the time, so he had no warning.

Bach no doubt wanted his surviving children to have a mother figure. On 3 December 1721, they got one when he married Anna Magdalena Wilcke, a singer from a musical family. Anna Magdalena was relatively young compared to Johann: she had just turned twenty, and he was thirty-six. In fact, Anna Magdalena was closer in age to her stepchildren than Bach!

It wasn’t long before she became a biological mom of her own. She and her husband ultimately had thirteen children together, on top of raising the surviving kids from Bach’s first marriage.

Christiana Sophia Henrietta (1723-1726)

She died just after her third birthday.

Gottfried Heinrich (1724-1763)

It appears that Gottfried Heinrich Bach had a mental disability of some kind, as he is described in historic records as “feeble-minded.” However, he played the keyboard very well. Later, instead of embarking on a career of his own, he moved in with his younger sister Elisabeth and her husband.

Christian Gottlieb (1725-1728)

He, like his older sister Christiana, died just after his third birthday.

Elisabeth Juliana Friederica (1726-1781)

We don’t know a tremendous amount about Elisabeth, but we know that she married one of her father’s pupils, an organist named Johann Christoph Altnikol. They named their firstborn Johann Sebastian, but he died in infancy. After her husband died, Elisabeth received money to survive from her half-brother, C.P.E. Bach, who helped to support both her and her disabled brother Gottfried.

Ernestus Andreas (1727-1727)

He only lived for two days.

Regina Johanna (1728-1733)

She died a few months before her fifth birthday.

Christiana Benedicta (1730-1730)

She lived for three days.

Christiana Dorothea (1731-1732)

She died at the age of seventeen months.

Johann Christoph Friedrich (1732-1795)

Johann Christoph Friedrich Bach

Johann Christoph Friedrich was born during a stretch of tragedy for the family, as Johann Sebastian and Anna Magdalena lost child after child. Today he’s known as the Bückeburg Bach, after the town in which he worked. He wrote all kinds of music, from symphonies to sonatas. In 1755 he married a singer, and they had a son named Wilhelm who became a professional composer in his own right

Johann August Abraham (1733-1733)

He only survived for a day.

Johann Christian (1735-1782)

Portrait of Johann Christian Bach in 1776 by Thomas Gainsborough

His dad was fifty years old when Johann Christian Bach was born! He studied with his father for a while, then (perhaps hoping to gain a more modern musical perspective), he studied with his older half-brother C.P.E. Bach, who, given the age difference, probably felt more like an uncle than a brother.

Johann Christian Bach enjoyed a successful career. He lived for many years in Italy and England, and even became Princess Charlotte’s music instructor. (He also converted to Catholicism, which his father, a famously devout Lutheran, probably wouldn’t have been too happy about!) He married a singer and died childless and in poverty. Luckily, Queen Charlotte arranged for a pension for his wife. 

Johanna Carolina (1737-1781)

We know very little about the life of Johanna Carolina. We know that she never married, and that she was only twelve when her father died, and twenty-two when her mother died.

And last but not least…

Regina Susanna (1742-1809)

Five years younger than her next-oldest sibling, Regina Susanna was the only Bach child to live into the nineteenth century. By her old age, she was destitute, and in the early 1800s, the editor of the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung printed a notice explaining her circumstances and asking for donations to support her. One of the readers believed to have answered the call? A prickly Vienna-based composer named Ludwig van Beethoven.

Tragically, after Bach’s death in 1750, the surviving sons quarreled, and C.P.E. Bach ended up, as best we know, being the only sibling who ever provided any financial assistance to Anna Magdalena in her widowhood. She, like her youngest daughter, died deep in poverty in 1760 and was buried in an unmarked grave.

The Bach family is the most famous extended family in music history. Understanding the joys and sorrows of its members as reflected in its many births and deaths lends depth to our understanding of all the music they left for future generations.

Six of the Wildest Piano Duels in Music History

by Emily E. Hogstadt, Interlude

Audiences can never resist a duel. For hundreds of years, audiences have enjoyed watching confrontations between virtuoso pianists that showcase both their technical prowess and competitive spirits.

© wshu.org

Today we’re looking at six of the most famous piano duels in the history of classical music, from the time Mozart was pitted against a rival on Christmas Eve in a Viennese palace to the time Liszt and his greatest rival trying to settle the question of who was best in a sparkling Romantic Era Paris salon.

Let’s get started!

Bach vs. Marchand (1717)

In 1717, when Bach’s work travels took him through Dresden, he unknowingly walked into a veritable snake’s pit of musical intrigue.

An irascible musician named Louis Marchand, who had left (or possibly been fired) the French royal court, was visiting Dresden at the same time that Bach was.

J.S. Bach © ClassicFM

Dresden-based musician J.B. Volumier feared that Marchand would be hired in Dresden and become a rival. So he began scheming to get Marchand out of the way.

He started by offering Bach an opportunity to hear Marchand practice. Volumier kept Bach “concealed” so that Marchand wouldn’t know anyone was listening.

Bach was then encouraged by courtiers to challenge Marchand to a duel. Since he’d just heard Marchand play and felt confident that he’d win in a head-to-head battle, he agreed.

The scheduled time for the face-off arrived, with a variety of wealthy and powerful people assembling to watch the musical carnage. Then came a shocking twist: Marchand had taken an early morning carriage and vanished from the city altogether.

It is theorized that Volumier may have sneaked Marchand into one of Bach’s practice sessions and that Volumier was so intimidated by what he heard there that he left town rather than embarrass himself onstage.

Louis Marchand

One caveat: eliable biographical details about Bach’s life are scarce, and it’s unclear exactly how much of this story is true. It has likely been embellished over the generations. But it remains one of the most famous keyboard duels of all time, whether it actually happened or not.

Handel vs. Scarlatti (1709) 

George Frederick Handel and Domenico Scarlatti were born in 1685. By their mid-twenties, they both had earned major reputations as organ and harpsichord players.

In 1709, a cardinal and patron of the arts named Pietro Ottoboni was keeping court at the Palazzo della Cancelleria. Both Handel and Scarlatti were present, and they challenged each other to a friendly duel.

The night of the duel arrived. There would be two rounds to the competition. One would compare the musicians’ abilities on harpsichord, the other on organ.

Scarlatti won the harpsichord round; Handel won the organ round. In the end, the competition was labeled a draw.

Mozart vs. Clementi (1781)

Mozart vs Clementi

In 1781, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart moved to Vienna to pursue a career as a freelance musician.

His reputation had spread far and wide, and on Christmas Eve, he was summoned by the Emperor. He wanted Mozart to have a musical duel with an Italian pianist currently making a splash in Vienna, a man named Muzio Clementi.

Clementi later remembered, “On entering the Emperor’s music room, I found there someone whom, because of his elegant appearance, I took for one of the Emperor’s chamberlains; but scarcely had we begun a conversation when we soon recognized each other as Mozart and Clementi.”

The two got down to business. Clementi began by playing one of his own sonatas; Mozart replied by playing an improvisation. Next came a sight-reading competition.

In the end, the assembled aristocrats declared the evening a draw, and prize money was split between the two men.

But the Emperor had a private side-bet going. He had bet on Mozart winning, while his Italy-loving sister-in-law bet on Clementi. Later, the Emperor, privately believing that Mozart had performed the best, collected his money from her.

Beethoven vs. Woelfl (1798)

Joseph Woelfl was born in 1773 in Salzburg and studied music under Mozart’s father. In 1790, he moved to Vienna to find work as a musician.

Beethoven also moved to Vienna in 1792. Cliques of fans soon arose. Some preferred the genial, gentler style of Woelfl, while others gravitated toward the stormy virtuosity of Beethoven.

Joseph Woelfl © Wikipedia

Woelfl also had a striking biological advantage: his fingers were freakishly long, allowing him to reach the interval of a tenth on the keyboard.

In 1798, the two men agreed to a piano duel and carried it out. In the end, Beethoven was declared to be the winner.

Woelfl was unbothered. In fact, he underlined his admiration for Beethoven by publicly dedicating a 1799 piano sonata to him.

Beethoven vs. Steibelt (1800) 

Daniel Steibelt was born in 1765 in Berlin. His father forced him to join the military, but he deserted and began a career as a piano virtuoso and composer instead.

In March 1800 he arrived in Vienna. Beethoven was not thrilled about this newcomer trying to usurp his place. They ended up meeting at the home of nobleman and banker Count Moritz von Fries to settle their differences with a good old-fashioned piano duel.

Daniel Steibelt

The duel featured three rounds. The first consisted of playing another composer’s work. Beethoven played a Mozart work; Steibelt played a Haydn work. Beethoven won.

The second round required the participants to improvise on a theme supplied by the other man. Beethoven won this round, too. By this time, Steibelt was surely sweating.

The third round would be the most challenging of all: sight-reading a work composed by the other man. Beethoven chose to pass along his eleventh piano sonata, which Steibelt interpreted very ably.

Steibelt then made a daring move: he handed Beethoven not a sonata for piano, but a sonata for piano and cello. Beethoven took the sheet music, turned it upside down, read it, and began improvising on themes from it. 

According to legend, Steibelt left the room in a huff.

We don’t know exactly how much of this story is true. The most extensive record of it comes from a man named Ferdinand Ries, who wrote the account decades later, and who was also a friend and ally of Beethoven, with every incentive to make him look good. But regardless of if the details are accurate, it’s a great story.

Liszt vs. Thalberg (1837) 

The duel between Franz Liszt and Sigismund Thalberg is probably the most famous piano duel in the history of classical music.

In 1837, these two young virtuoso pianists were taking Paris by storm. That March, writer and journalist Countess Cristina Belgiojoso – once the wealthiest heiress in Italy, and a supporter of Italian revolutionaries – invited Liszt and Thalberg to participate in a duel. Proceeds from the event would go to Italian refugees.

Each man played a series of their own works, including wildly flashy and virtuosic variations on operatic themes, which were extremely popular at the time.

Franz Liszt vs Sigismond Thalberg

The savvy countess, not wanting to alienate either giant, famously proclaimed, “Thalberg is the greatest pianist, but there is only one Liszt.”

Critic Jules Janon was more descriptive when he wrote about the event the following day:

Never was Liszt more controlled, more thoughtful, more energetic, more passionate; never has Thalberg played with greater verve and tenderness. Each of them prudently stayed within his harmonic domain, but each used every one of his resources. It was an admirable joust. The most profound silence fell over that noble arena. And finally Liszt and Thalberg were both proclaimed victors by this glittering and intelligent assembly. Thus two victors and no vanquished.

10 Pieces of Classical Music About Friendship

by Emily Hogstadt, Interlude

Making and having friends is one of the great joys of the human experience. Not surprisingly, many classical composers have been deeply inspired by their friendships with other people, and especially with other creative people.

Today, we’re looking at ten pieces of classical music that reflect on composers’ friendships in some way, whether it’s Beethoven’s dedication of a private string quartet to a friend or Elgar’s extravagant orchestral puzzle dedicated to his friends.

Enjoy!

Ludwig van Beethoven: String Quartet No. 11 (1810-11)

Beethoven’s eleventh quartet was a unique piece from the start: he wrote in a letter to a friend that “The Quartet is written for a small circle of connoisseurs and is never to be performed in public.”

In it, Beethoven allowed himself to experiment and take risks. It was written the year after Napoleon invaded Vienna when the routines of people in the city had been shattered, so there weren’t many audiences interested in coming to performances, anyway.

Nikolaus Zmeskall von Domanovecz © Wikipedia

Beethoven dedicated this work to his friend, Count Nikolaus Zmeskall von Domanovecz. Zmeskall was a civil servant and an amateur cellist who hosted gatherings in his home where chamber music was performed. These house concerts were the first place where much of Beethoven’s later chamber music was first heard.

Frédéric Chopin: Variations on “Là ci darem la mano” (1827) 

Frédéric Chopin had such an intense friendship with political activist Tytus Woyciechowski that some scholars have recently claimed that the two had a romantic relationship.

Tytus Woyciechowski © Wikipedia

Some historians have protested, but regardless of the truth, Chopin certainly did write some very intimate letters to Woyciechowski, including this one in 1830:

I will go and wash. Don‘t kiss me now because I haven‘t yet washed. You? Even if I were to rub myself with Byzantine oils, you still wouldn’t kiss me, unless I compelled you to do so with magnetism. There is some sort of force in nature. Today you will dream that you‘re kissing me. I have to pay you back for the nasty dream you brought me last night…

Three years earlier, Chopin had written a series of variations for piano on an aria from Mozart’s opera Don Giovanni and dedicated it to Woyciechowski.

The two friends eventually drifted apart, but they always remained in each other’s hearts. Woyciechowski eventually named one of his children after Chopin.

Felix Mendelssohn: Allegro Brillant (1841) 

Since he was very young, composer Felix Mendelssohn was a close colleague of prodigy pianist Clara Wieck Schumann (the woman who eventually married composer Robert Schumann).

Felix Mendelssohn © U.S. Public Domain

In 1835, Mendelssohn was named music director of the Gewandhaus orchestra in Leipzig. Wieck, born in 1819, was a popular up-and-coming Leipzig-born piano prodigy, so the two often worked together professionally.

As a token of his admiration, in 1841, the year after her marriage to Robert Schumann, Mendelssohn wrote the dazzling Allegro Brillant for piano four-hands for Clara.

As a token of respect for his friend’s ability, the Allegro Brillant is devilishly difficult.

Johannes Brahms: Violin Concerto (1878) 

Another musician in the Mendelssohn/Schumann social circle was a Hungarian violinist named Joseph Joachim.

In 1844, at the age of twelve, Joachim gave the first performance in decades of Beethoven’s violin concerto. This performance helped to kick off an entire reappraisal of the work. (By the way, the conductor at that concert? None other than Felix Mendelssohn!)

Joseph Joachim, 1853

When they were young, Joseph Joachim became great friends with pianist Johannes Brahms, and tried to help promote Brahms’s career. In fact, Joachim made the introductions between Brahms and the Schumanns, which became one of the most formative experiences of Brahms’s life.

Brahms and Joachim continued to be friends for many years (although their relationship had its ups and downs).

When Brahms wrote his violin concerto, he wrote it for Joachim, consulting extensively with him via mail. It shouldn’t be a surprise that the finale is extremely Hungarian in character. Joachim reciprocated the friendly gesture by writing the cadenza in the concerto, which is still the only one regularly played.

Edward Elgar: Enigma Variations (1898-99) 

When Edward Elgar published his Enigma Variations for orchestra, he included a dedication: “to my friends pictured within.”

Each movement is a portrait of someone in his life, complete with musical puzzles and extra-musical references that have kept musicologists and nerdy listeners debating as to their identities for generations.

In 1911, he expanded on his dedication:

This work, commenced in a spirit of humour & continued in deep seriousness, contains sketches of the composer’s friends. It may be understood that these personages comment or reflect on the original theme & each one attempts a solution of the Enigma, for so the theme is called. The sketches are not ‘portraits’ but each variation contains a distinct idea founded on some particular personality or perhaps on some incident known only to two people. This is the basis of the composition, but the work may be listened to as a ‘piece of music’ apart from any extraneous consideration.

Sergei Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto No. 2 (1900-1901) 

Rachmaninoff’s second piano concerto may be among his most popular works today, but it only came to life after a lot of blood, sweat, and tears…and one especially helpful friend.

Nikolai Dahl © Wikipedia

To make a long story short, Rachmaninoff was so traumatized by the failure of his first symphony in 1897 that it triggered a mental breakdown. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to compose again.

After several years of writers’ block, in early 1900, Rachmaninoff finally began going to a neurologist and family friend named Nikolai Dahl. Dahl helped him process the failure of his symphony and feel comfortable composing again. In gratitude, Rachmaninoff dedicated his second concerto to him.

The concerto is lush, deeply emotional, and beautifully paced and proportioned. Rachmaninoff toured the world playing and promoting it, ensuring its spot in the classical music canon.

George Enescu: Violin Sonata No. 3 (1926) 

In 1926, violinist Franz Kneisel died. Kneisel had had a remarkable career. He was born in Bucharest, Romania, and studied music there and in Vienna. He became a concertmaster when he was just a teenager; he was later handpicked to serve in that position with the fledgling Boston Symphony, and he also founded the first professional string quartet in the United States, the Kneisel Quartet, which performed in America for decades.

Violinist Franz Kneisel in 1902 © Wikipedia

So when Kneisel died in 1926, he was very famous. Composer and violinist George Enescu – a fellow Romanian musician – decided to pay homage to Kneisel’s origins by posthumously dedicating a violin sonata “in Romanian Folk Style” to him. It became Enescu’s most popular work.

Karol Szymanowski: Violin Concerto No 2 (1932-33) 

Ukrainian violinist Paweł Kochański became sick with cancer in his forties. Cancer treatments were relatively limited at the time, and he would die at the age of 46 from the disease.

Before he died, however, he commissioned a violin concerto from his friend, Polish composer Karol Szymanowski. Szymanowski was deeply inspired by the request and wrote the concerto in a matter of weeks.

Paweł Kochański © Wikipedia

Happily, Kochański stayed well enough to premiere the work in October 1933 in Warsaw. But his health deteriorated rapidly afterward, and he died a few months later.

Before the score’s publication, Szymanowski edited the dedication to read “A la memoire du Grand Musicien, mon cher et inoubliable Ami, Paweł Kochański” (“In memory of the Great Musician, my dear and unforgettable Friend, Paweł Kochański”).

It ended up being Szymanowski’s last big work, too. He died in 1937 of tuberculosis.

Dmitri Shostakovich: Piano Trio No. 2 (1943-44) 

Composer Dmitri Shostakovich began his second piano trio in late 1943 and finished it in August 1944.

While he was working on the trio, in February 1944, a close friend named Ivan Sollertinsky died in his sleep.

Sollertinsky was a brilliant figure who reportedly spoke twenty-six languages (and no, that’s not a typo). Among other things, he helped introduce Mahler‘s music to the Soviet Union.

Understandably, Shostakovich was devastated at the loss, and he wrote that devastating into his haunting piano trio.

According to Sollertinsky’s sister, the trio’s second movement was a portrait of her late brother. It is followed by a tragic dirge.

Arvo Pärt: Für Alina (1976) 

There’s a deeply bittersweet real-life story behind Estonian composer Arvo Pärt’s short piano piece Für Alina (or “For Alina”).

In the 1970s, some family friends broke up. The father of the family left for England, and his teenage daughter Alina chose to go with him to see more of the world beyond Estonia.

The work is Pärt comforting his friend, Alina’s mother, while also recognizing her grief at her little girl leaving home.

Conclusion

Classical musicians can certainly be temperamental, but as this overview proves, sometimes the best friendships are friendships based on music!

What are your favorite friendship stories in the history of classical music? What pieces would you add to our list?

What Happened to Mozart’s Children?

by Emily F. Hogstad, Interlude

Composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and singer Constanze Weber were married on 4 August 1782.

© media-cldnry.s-nbcnews.com

Their courtship had been dramatic. They had started dating the summer of the previous year (after Wolfgang had initially fallen in love with Constanze’s sister). They discussed marriage, but Wolfgang’s father, Leopold, was firmly against it.

Then, in April 1782, they broke up after Constanze had played a parlor game with another young man, during which he measured her calves.

However, after a while, she and Wolfgang made up. In July of 1782, they even moved in with each other…without getting married first!

Constanze Mozart in 1802, portrait by Hans Hansen © Wikipedia

The situation proved scandalous. Wolfgang admitted to his father that they were already sleeping together, so he claimed they had no choice but to get married. Constanze’s mother was beside herself, inquiring whether the police could get involved to rescue her daughter and save her reputation.

Amidst all of this drama, the two did finally get married. The morning after their wedding, Leopold’s extremely reluctant permission arrived in the mail.

The story of Constanze’s pregnancies and their children’s lives offer a unique lens through which to understand Mozart’s biography and music. Today, we’re looking at the six children that Wolfgang and Constanze had together between 1783 and 1791.

Raimund Leopold Mozart (17 June 1783 – 19 August 1783)

On 17 June 1783, around one o’clock in the morning, Constanze Mozart went into labor with her first baby.

While Constanze gave birth, Wolfgang nervously composed two movements of his D-minor string quartet. (Constanze later claimed that the chromatic minuet was inspired by her screams.) 

Five hours after Constanze’s labor began, Raimund Leopold Mozart was born: “a fine, sturdy boy, round as a butterball,” Wolfgang reported to his father in a letter the following day.

The Mozarts named the baby Raimund after their landlord. Oddly, their landlord served as the baby’s godfather instead of Leopold. According to Wolfgang, he wanted to call the baby Leopold, but the landlord offered his services as a godparent, and Wolfgang felt helpless to resist. Either Wolfgang was spineless, or it was an attempt to escape his father’s influence.

The Mozarts hired a wet nurse to help care for little Raimund. “Against my wishes and yet not altogether against my will, they brought in a wet nurse for the child!” he reported to his father.

Over the course of the summer of 1783, Wolfgang made plans to visit his father Leopold in his hometown of Salzburg. Wolfgang was leery of leaving Vienna; he was concerned about being arrested, as he’d left his job with the Salzburg archbishop without officially resigning. His father laughed these concerns off and accused his son of just not wanting to see him.

Feeling guilty about Leopold’s jab, he set off with Constanze to Salzburg six weeks after the baby had been born. They left Raimund behind in Vienna (we don’t know why or with whom), choosing not to introduce him to Leopold. Raimund died in mid-August before the visit was over.

We have very little evidence as to how Wolfgang and Constanze handled the death of their firstborn child. Mozart’s sister didn’t mention it in her diaries. A couple of months later, Mozart wrote to Leopold, “We are both very sad about our poor, bonny, fat, darling little boy.” And that’s the last we hear about him in the historical record.

Karl Thomas Mozart (21 September 1784 – 31 October 1858)

Karl Thomas Mozart © Wikipedia

A few months later, around the start of 1784, Constanze got pregnant again. She had Karl Thomas Mozart in September.

Wolfgang died when Karl was seven years old. Later in life, he advanced the theory that his father had been poisoned, although, of course, being just a child, he couldn’t have known if such a thing had really happened.

He went to school in Prague and studied music with Franz Xaver Niemetschek (the first biographer of Wolfgang Mozart) and composer František Xaver Dušek.

When he was twenty-one, he moved to Milan, where he would live for the rest of his life. He tried to make a career in music, but in his mid-twenties he gave up and went into accounting and Italian translating instead.

He earned enough royalties from Wolfgang’s music that he was able to buy a country estate in the township of Valmorea, near Lake Como.

He never got married or had any children, and he died in 1858 at the age of seventy-four.

Johann Thomas Leopold Mozart (18 October 1786 – 15 November 1786)

In 1786, Wolfgang’s big musical project was composing and mounting The Marriage of Figaro, which premiered in May. In January 1787 he went to Prague to conduct a production of it.

In between, Constanze gave birth to their third son, but he died just a month later of “Stickfrais”, which was a term that meant breathing difficulties. It may have been something like whooping cough or lung disease.

Theresia Constanzia Adelheid Friedericke Maria Anna Mozart (27 December 1787 – 29 June 1788)

Just after Christmas 1787, Constanze gave birth to the couple’s first daughter, to whom they gave a very long name. By using the name Maria Anna, they were paying tribute to Mozart’s musician sister, Maria Anna Mozart (also known as Nannerl).

Tragically, their daughter died of intestinal trouble in the summer of 1788. This was the same summer that Mozart wrote his 39th, 40th, and 41st symphonies…a feat that’s difficult to imagine. 

Anna Maria Mozart (born and died on 16 November 1789)

In the spring of 1789, when Constanze was pregnant, Wolfgang left Vienna.

He had racked up considerable debt and decided to travel to Dresden, Berlin, and Prague to give concerts to make money. For an entire month after he left, no letters arrived, to Constanze’s great distress.

Wolfgang eventually returned to Vienna, only to find Constanze sick with a leg ulcer. In fact, there was a question of whether she was going to recover. Wolfgang reported in a letter to friends that she was calmly facing her fate, whatever it might be.

Fortunately, she recovered, and after she entered her third trimester, they went to Baden, a spa resort.

Anna Maria Mozart, Wolfgang and Constanze’s fifth child and second daughter, was born in mid-November. She was named after Mozart’s late mother, who had died in 1778. Tragically, she died an hour after she was born. She was baptized before her death and buried the next day.

Franz Xaver Wolfgang Mozart (26 July 1791 – 29 July 1844)

Karl and Franz Xaver Mozart © Wikipedia

The Mozarts’ final baby, Franz Xaver Wolfgang Mozart, was born in the summer of 1791. Although he was just an infant when his father died, he ended up being the child who would carry on the Mozart family reputation in the music world. He also inherited the name Wolfgang, which he’d be called by his family.

He was musically talented as a child. Although his older brother believed that their father may have been poisoned, Wolfgang the younger took lessons from Antonio Salieri, who is sometimes named as one of the potential suspects. This is perhaps proof of how unserious his mother took the poisoning rumors. He also studied with Johann Nepomuk Hummel.

Franz Xaver Mozart (1825) by Karl Gottlieb Schweikart

Wolfgang, Jr., made his debut in Vienna in April 1805 at the Theater an der Wien, where Beethoven had given multiple legendary premieres over the previous few years.

He spent most of his career teaching and traveling, performing his own works and the works of his father.

However, he simply wasn’t as talented as his father, and he knew it.

He died a few days after his fifty-third birthday of stomach cancer. His poignant epitaph reads, “May the name of his father be his epitaph, as his veneration for him was the essence of his life.”