Mozart’s life in Paris, where he lived with his mother in 1778 and 1779, was a disappointment, for he despised the French nation.  His deep, simple, German nature revolted from Parisian frivolity, in which he found only sensuality and coarseness, disguised under a thin veneering of social grace.  He abhorred French music in these bitter terms:  “The French are and always will be downright donkeys.  They cannot sing, they scream.”  It was just at this time that Gluck and Piccini were having their great art-duel.  We get a glimpse of the pious tendency of the young composer in his characterization of Voltaire:  “The ungodly arch-villain, Voltaire, has just died like a dog.”  Again he writes:  “Friends who have no religion cannot long be my friends....  I have such a sense of religion that I shall never do anything that I would not do before the whole world.”

With Mozart’s return to Germany in 1779, being then twenty-three years of age, comes the dawn of his classical period as a composer.  The greater number of his masses had already been written, and now he settled himself in serious earnest to the cultivation of a true German operatic school.  This found its dawn in the production of “Idomeneo,” his first really great work for the lyric stage.

The young composer had hard struggles with poverty in these days.  His letters to his father are full of revelations of his friction with the little worries of life.  Lack of money pinched him close, yet his cheerful spirit was ever buoyant.  “I have only one small room; it is quite crammed with a piano, a table, a bed, and a chest of drawers,” he writes.

Yet he would marry; for he was willing to face poverty in the companionship of a loving woman who dared to face it with him.  At Mannheim he had met a beautiful young singer, Aloysia Weber, and he went to Munich to offer her marriage.  She, however, saw nothing attractive in the thin, pale young man, with his long nose, great eyes, and little head; for he was anything but prepossessing.  A younger sister, Constance, however, secretly loved Mozart, and he soon transferred his repelled affections to this charming woman, whom he married in 1782 at the house of Baroness Waldstetten.  His naive reasons for marrying show Mozart’s ingenuous nature.  He had no one to take care of his linen, he would not live dissolutely like other young men, and he loved Constance Weber.  His answer to his father, who objected on account of his poverty, is worth quoting: 

“Constance is a well-conducted, good girl, of respectable parentage, and I am in a position to earn at least daily bread for her.  We love each other, and are resolved to marry.  All that you have written or may possibly write on the subject can be nothing but well-meant advice, which, however good and sensible, can no longer apply to a man who has gone so far with a girl.”