That winter felt colder and longer than most, as if pain and sorrow had decided to linger well past their welcome. Vienna reflected the mood. The city was not only enduring harsh weather, but also the strain from the Austro-Turkish War[i]. Its usual musical vitality gave way to tension and distraction. Members of the aristocracy, preoccupied with matters far removed from concert halls, found little appetite for joyful evening entertainment by their favorite composer. Many fled the city altogether, taking their patronage – and their purses – with them.
Concert activity declined sharply. So did my income.
Constanze and I were forced to move into a smaller, more modest apartment, leaving behind comforts we had grown used to. I spent more time writing letters to friends begging for money than composing music. This was humiliating work, and I did it thoroughly. Some might have described my state of mind as depression, though I lacked both the time and the means to seek a professional opinion.
And yet – perhaps because of the emptiness, or perhaps in defiance of it – I felt an overwhelming need to compose. For nine weeks, I worked in a kind of fever. Music arrived faster than I could write it down. It felt almost involuntary, as though the notes already existed somewhere and were merely waiting to be released. I had once tried to explain this sensation to Father. Now it felt truer than ever.
During this extraordinary burst of creativity, I completed three symphonies[ii]. Even now, I am not entirely sure how or why I did it. There was no commission, no promised premiere, and no assurance that anyone would ever hear them. They existed because they insisted on being written.
At around the same time, I composed a piano concerto[iii] under considerable pressure. Lacking time, I omitted writing the left-hand part entirely. My intention was to improvise it during the performance. I left the pages blank – no notes, no markings, no guidance of any kind. Just empty staves. Looking back, I see more in those empty pages than a composer trusting his instincts. I see a man overwhelmed, improvising not only at the keyboard but in life itself – balancing obligation, worry, and exhaustion, and sensing, perhaps for the first time, that energy was no longer endless.
[i] The Austro-Turkish War, also known as the Habsburg–Ottoman War, was fought from 1788 to 1791, between the Habsburg monarchy and the Ottoman Empire. The war ended with the Treaty of Sistova (1791), with minor territorial changes in favor of the Habsburg side.
[ii] Mozart composed his final three symphonies in an incredibly brief period: Symphony No. 39 in E-flat major, Symphony No. 40 in G minor, and Symphony No. 41 in C major, nicknamed the “Jupiter”.
[iii] Piano Concerto No. 26 in D major (K. 537) was completed on 24 February 1788. It was later nicknamed “Coronation” from his playing of the work at the time of the coronation of Leopold II as Holy Roman Emperor in October 1790 in Frankfurt.