As in Haydn's case, the young couple were forced to live on "bread and cheese and kisses," with none too much of the first two articles. Mozart, more than any other composer, met with undeserved hardships. On every side his music was praised and his genius admired, but nobles and princes, and even the emperor, would give him no material aid. He made a devoted husband, and much of the money that disappeared so readily from his hands was probably used for the benefit of his wife, whose health was not of the best. Their life (in Vienna at first) was a continual effort to solve the old vexed problem of making both ends meet, and Constance must be given high praise for the wonderful skill with which she managed the small and uncertain income of her husband. Several times the young couple were brought face to face with the direst need, but their patience and cheerfulness carried them through the crisis. On one occasion, when there was no fuel on hand and no money to buy any, a visitor found the pair busily engaged in waltzing about their bare room in order to keep warm. At another time they were rescued from their extremity only by the kindness of their friend, the Baroness Waldstätten, who intervened just in time to save them from beggary. After three years, Leopold Mozart relented enough to visit his daughter-in-law, whom he found far more deserving than he had expected; but he himself was not well off, and could be of little financial help.
That Constance was of great aid to her husband, in spite of an easy-going nature, cannot be doubted. She possessed the faculty of telling interesting stories and novelettes, and with this apparently inexhaustible fund of invention she would amuse him between his periods of work. The description that we have of the composition of the great "Don Giovanni" overture gives a pleasing illustration of this phase of the family life. Owing to rehearsals and other work, the day before the performance arrived with no overture yet written. In the evening, according to his custom, Mozart began the task by sketching out the themes and a general plan of construction for the work. Near him sat his wife, ready to entertain him with her pleasing tales when he looked up from his work. For one or two hours he did indulge in actual repose; but all through the rest of the night he continued the work, relieving his mental concentration by listening to the storiettes or occasionally sipping a glass of his favourite punch. The manuscript was completed and ready for the copyist the next morning at seven o'clock, and along with the other numbers scored a complete success in the evening.
Some blame has attached to Constance for the lack of exact knowledge about Mozart's grave. At the hour of his burial, in the public cemetery, a violent storm drove away all the mourners. There was a cholera scare in Vienna at the time, which kept many people away from the graveyard. Her own neglect of the matter may have been caused by illness, but, whatever the reason, the fact remains that when public interest was aroused the exact location of Mozart's grave could no longer be defined.
The life of Carl Maria von Weber was tinged in its earlier years with the romance that seemed to pervade all phases of life in his native country. Germany had just passed through one of her rare but regular periods of national awakening, and every one was full of a keen spirit of patriotic originality in life, letters, and art, as well as in music. Gifted with unusual talents, trained in the paternal hope of his becoming a boy prodigy like Mozart, and urged by the need of making his own career, he soon made a name for himself by his personal charms as well as his talents. A welcome guest in the homes of aristocracy and cultivation, he possessed a roving disposition and a spirit of adventure that made his life not unlike that of the early Troubadours.
It was in Vienna that he met his future wife. Being given charge of the opera at Prague, he journeyed to the Austrian capital for the purpose of engaging singers, and among them brought back the talented Caroline Brandt. He soon wished to enter into closer relations with this singer, but found obstacles in the way of marriage. She was unwilling to sacrifice at once a career that was winning her many laurels, and she did not wholly approve of the wandering life that the gifted young manager had led up to the time of their meeting. We find him discontented with this situation, and travelling about in search of a better and more important post; and during one of these trips he received a letter from Caroline, saying that they had better part. This brought forth the accusation from the embittered Weber that "Her views of high art were not above the usual pitiful standard, namely, that it was but a means of procuring soup, meat, and shirts." There can be no doubt, however, that her influence was of the utmost value in steadying his efforts.
When Weber was once back in Prague, her real love for him overcame all scruples, and she showed herself ready to wait until he should attain a post of sufficient value to permit their marriage. After putting the Prague opera on a stable basis, he looked about for a long time in vain, until finally he obtained a life position as conductor in Dresden. At last he was able to return to Prague and marry his faithful Caroline, with the certainty of being able to provide her a home. The newly wedded pair made a triumphant concert tour, and settled down to a life of domestic felicity in Dresden. It can hardly be said that Weber lived happily ever afterward, for he found many troubles in connection with his new post. But his married life was such a constant source of joy to him that he felt always inspired with fresh energy to overcome all difficulties. It was during his married career that he won those immense popular successes, with "Der Freischütz," "Euryanthe," and "Oberon," that gave the most brilliant lustre to a name already immortal. The last opera took him to London, away from his beloved family. Aware of his failing health, he made every effort to reach home, but that boon was denied him, and he died without another view of those who would have been anxious to soothe his last moments.
Ludwig Spohr was another composer who possessed a musical wife. He came of a musical family, his father being a flutist, while his mother played the piano and sang. Ludwig took up the violin at five years of age, and at six was able to take part in concerted music. His compositions began at about the same time. After a youth of earnest study, long practice, and successful tours, he finally became leader in the band of the Duke of Gotha. It was there that he met Dorette Scheidler, the famous harpist, whom he afterward married. Her influence is seen in his later compositions, for he wrote for her a number of sonatas for harp and violin, as well as a good many harp solos. The musical pair went on many tours, always sharing the honours of the performances.
Still more evident is the influence of woman upon music in the case of Hector Berlioz. This great genius, born in 1803, was the son of an opium eater, and the morbid character of most of his works may be traced to this cause. Berlioz studied at the Paris Conservatoire, but his sensational style did not win favour with the classical Cherubini, and the young man was forced to work against many difficulties. He was even forbidden at one time to compete for the Prix de Rome, and came near giving up his career in dejection.
On the Parisian stage was a beautiful Irish actress, named Harriet Smithson, who was performing the plays of Shakespeare. Berlioz at once fell in love with her, but it was some time before his needy circumstances allowed him to lay his suit before her. When he did so, his passion found shape and expression in a great musical work,—the Symphonic Fantastique.
This is a weird and sinister composition, but very effective. It is in five movements. The first represents a young man seeing his ideal and falling in love with her, the object of this sudden affection being depicted by a tender theme on the violin. This theme pervades the entire work. In the second movement, which represents a ball, it signifies the entrance of the fair one. The third movement is called "In the Fields," and contains a duet between the two lovers in the guise of a shepherd and shepherdess. They are portrayed by an English horn and an oboe, the result being one of the great instrumental dialogues that are sometimes found in-works of the tone masters. An effective touch is the introduction of a thunder-storm, after which the English horn begins a plaintive note of inquiry, but meets with no reply. In the fourth movement, the young man has slain his love in a fit of jealousy, and is on his way to execution. Very powerful music expresses the fatal march, interrupted every now and then by the surging footsteps of the crowd. At its close, the hero ascends the scaffold; amid a hush, the tender love theme reappears, but is obliterated by a sudden crash of the full orchestra, and all is still. Berlioz, however, does not let his hero rest in the grave, but adds a fifth movement to show him in the infernal regions. Piccolo and other wild instruments depict the fury of the demons, a parody on the Dies Iræ follows, and even the tender love-theme is not spared, but is turned into the most vulgar of waltzes.