Vienna offered the freedom I had long desired. For the first time, I was living as a true artist – independent, optimistic, and on the brink of starvation. Despite the uncertainty, my reputation as both composer and performer grew quickly. Stories of my “remarkable fingers” circulated through the city, spreading faster than pastries disappear at a Viennese matinee. Audiences gathered eagerly to hear me improvise, and students began forming orderly queues for lessons, a development I found encouraging.
During this period, I learned that the family Weber had also settled in Vienna. Yes, this was the same family I had known years earlier in Germany, the family whose daughter Aloysia had once captured my heart with her soprano voice – only to break it again with her indifference. Still, I paid a visit. To my surprise, it was not Aloysia but her quieter, steadier sister, Constanze, who caught my attention.
My visits to the Weber home became increasingly frequent. Conversations stretched into late evenings, and before long I realized that I was in love. Everything about it felt effortless, natural, and entirely convincing.
Naturally, Father disapproved. Frau Weber had her own concerns. She threatened that if living arrangements did not turn respectable, she would not hesitate to involve the authorities. Faced with opposition from all sides, I arrived at what any sensible man in love and under pressure would do.
The next morning, on August 4th, within the walls of Vienna’s St. Stephen’s Cathedral, Constanze and I were married. The ceremony was modest and intimate, without orchestra and without Father. Those present included Constanze’s mother, her youngest sister Sophie, and a few friends who likely did not realize they were witnessing a moment of considerable musical consequence.
As our life together began, I turned my attention to a new opera, Die Entführung aus dem Serail[i]. It was my first major work as a freelance composer in Vienna. The opera was lively, humorous, and unapologetically rich in percussion. Its success helped people to see me not as a former child prodigy, but as a composer fully formed. Even Emperor Joseph II offered an opinion. He remarked that the opera contained “far too many notes, Herr Mozart.” I assured him that there were “just as many as necessary, Your Majesty.”
[i] Die Entführung aus dem Serail (K. 384; The Abduction from the Seraglio; also known as Il Seraglio) is a singspiel in three acts. The work premiered on 16 July 1782 at the Vienna Burgtheater, with Mozart conducting.