{"id":8743,"date":"2026-08-14T17:29:15","date_gmt":"2026-08-14T15:29:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.beatricevenezi.it\/?p=8743"},"modified":"2026-08-17T18:29:57","modified_gmt":"2026-08-17T16:29:57","slug":"le-sorelle-di-mozart-episodio-2-fanny-clara-louise","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.beatricevenezi.it\/en\/le-sorelle-di-mozart-episodio-2-fanny-clara-louise\/","title":{"rendered":"Mozart\u2019s Sisters \u2014 Episode 2 \u2013 Fanny, Clara, Louise"},"content":{"rendered":"

Beatrice Venezi\u2019s BLOG \u2013 The century that transformed the author into a muse<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Last time, I left you standing in front of a locked cupboard. Inside lay the music that Nannerl Mozart had written, which no one would ever hear again. And I had promised you one thing: that the coming century \u2014 the nineteenth century, the Romantic era \u2014 would treat female talent with something more subtle than the ban that had locked that cupboard. It would not have forbidden women from making music. It would have convinced them, with all the delicacy of a compliment, that their role was to inspire it, not to create it. The muse, not the composer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tonight I\u2019m going to open three different wardrobes. <\/strong>I find the first one left ajar by a brother who loves his sister, but not enough to let her sign it. The second I find bolted shut by a father who writes his daughter\u2019s diary for her, in the first person, as if she were him. The third, however \u2014 and this is why you must stay until the very end \u2014 someone manages to unhinge it completely with a single word: equality<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Let\u2019s start with Hamburg, in the early nineteenth century. <\/strong>A city that was subjugated, liberated, expanding, and then reduced to ashes: the perfect breeding ground for Romanticism to take root \u2013 the era that placed emotion in the place of Enlightenment reason, and the artist\u2019s tormented self in the place of the perfect form of Classicism.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In that city, <\/strong>Fanny Mendelssohn was born in that century. Perhaps the surname sounds familiar to you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His father\u2019s name is Abraham; he is a banker<\/strong>, and for her youngest son \u2014 Felix, the youngest at five \u2014 she has a clear vision for his future: \u00abMusic will become his profession.\u00bb<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

For Fanny, however, the verdict is the opposite<\/strong>, and he puts it in writing: \u00abFor you, however, it can and must be nothing more than a mere adornment. You ought to apply yourself with greater seriousness and more zeal to your true and only work \u2013 the only work befitting a young lady: being a housewife.\u00bb<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two and a half centuries have passed since Maddalena Casulana, <\/strong>who, in 1568, dared to write that it was \u00abfutile mistake\u00bb<\/em>Men like to think they are the sole masters of talent. And Fanny hears the same old idea repeated to her, almost word for word. Progress, as we shall see, is never a straight line.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fanny isn\u2019t giving up.<\/strong> But he is under no illusions either, and he admits as much with a bitterness that, two centuries on, we recognise all too well, for it is the same as that felt by anyone who creates something amidst general indifference: \u00abIf no one offers you an opinion or takes the slightest interest in your creations, in time you lose not only all pleasure, but also any ability to judge their value. I cannot help but regard it as a sign of talent that I do not give up composing, even though I cannot get anyone to take an interest in my efforts.\u00bb<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Take a moment to reflect on this sentence, <\/strong>because it is a very modern form of creative unease, and it lies at the heart of today\u2019s entire episode: it is not enough simply to have the gift. You also need someone who, upon seeing it, will acknowledge it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And here, Fanny doesn\u2019t miss that someone entirely. <\/strong>Felix truly admires her, gives her advice and relies on her. But there is a world of difference between admiring a sister and letting her sign and publish her work, and Felix does not bridge that gap. It is said that some of the Lieder published under his name were actually written by her. And in the presence of Queen Victoria, who confesses to Felix that she loves his composition above all others Italy<\/em> , Felix is forced to admit that the music had, in fact, sprung from Fanny\u2019s mind. Not because she wanted to steal it from him: it was simply that, for a woman, publishing it was still considered improper, and he said quite sincerely \u00abI can\u2019t say I approve of it.\u00bb.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fanny is waiting. <\/strong>He waited forty-one years. And then, in 1846, he wrote Felix the bravest letter in this story: \u00abFor forty years I\u2019ve been afraid of you, just as I was afraid of Dad when I was fourteen, because I\u2019ve always wanted to please the people I love. But now, Felix, I\u2019m going against your wishes and I\u2019m telling you that I\u2019ve started publishing.\u00bb<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

From then on, Fanny wrote and published,<\/strong> He composed nearly five hundred works, including a masterpiece such as the Trio in D minor, Op. 11.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He wrote it just one month before his death. <\/strong>On 14 May 1847, barely a year had passed since she had decided to take control of her life; a stroke struck her whilst she was practising a piece on the piano. In a final, bitter twist of irony, that piece wasn\u2019t even hers: it was The First Walpurgis Night<\/em>, by Felix Mendelssohn, Fanny\u2019s brother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Let\u2019s move on to Leipzig, <\/strong>during the same period; another little girl is growing up in a different kind of shadow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe daughter of\u201d<\/strong>.<\/em> Then: \u201cthe wife of\u201d.<\/em> This, it seems, was the whole of Clara Wieck Schumann\u2019s fate, despite her talent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her father, Friedrich Wieck, is a renowned piano teacher<\/strong>, the owner of a piano factory, and for years he writes the little girl\u2019s diary in the first person, as if Clara were him. When she grows up and wants to write the diary herself, her father still insists on reading it and approving it. Clara is moulded, in body and mind, towards a single goal: to become the very best. And indeed she does. She made her debut at the age of ten; at eighteen she was appointed \u2018Chamber Virtuoso of the Emperor\u2019 in Vienna \u2014 the highest honour for a musician \u2014 and Paganini, Goethe and Liszt were among those who came to applaud her. Even Chopin sent her his compliments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And in the midst of this triumph, at the age of nine, <\/strong>She knew one of her father\u2019s pupils who was rather unreliable but full of genius: Robert Schumann. She fell in love with him at sixteen and married him at twenty-one, only when coming of age finally allowed her to go against her father\u2019s wishes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Schumann household is brimming with music,<\/strong> of poetry, of two minds that mirror one another: the famousCarnival<\/em> Robert\u2019s Op. 9 references works by Clara, and for years, some of her Lieder were mistaken for compositions by him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And there\u2019s more: during those very same years, <\/strong>Clara was the link between Robert\u2019s music and that of a young composer \u2014 entirely different in style \u2014 who had been a regular visitor to the Schumann household since he was a boy: rigorous, conservative, and, according to the gossip of the time, in love with her all his life: Johannes Brahms. Without Clara \u2014 her judgement, her energy, her network of connections \u2014 we would probably not know German Romanticism today as we do. It is she who holds together, literally with her own hands, the legacy of two of its leading figures.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But marriage, however much it is based on love<\/strong>, rearranges the rooms, including the music rooms. An injury to his ring finger forces Robert to give up the piano and devote himself solely to composition, and to compose he needs absolute silence. Clara writes, disconsolate: \u00abMy playing is falling behind; it always happens when Robert\u2019s composing. There isn\u2019t even an hour for me; I can\u2019t get anything done with the composition, and sometimes I feel like smashing my stupid head against the wall.\u00bb<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not the thin walls of just any old house:<\/strong> the thin walls of a marriage in which two geniuses breathe the same air, and one of them, almost always, has to hold their breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eight children, a love that lasts as long as <\/strong>Robert does not begin to show increasingly unmanageable signs of that inner turmoil \u2014 the Tornness<\/em> which I have already mentioned elsewhere, embodied in his characters Florestano and Eusebio \u2014 right up to the mental illness that slowly erases everything from his mind. Including music. He died at the age of forty-six.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And here, exactly where Fanny\u2019s life had come to an end,<\/strong> Clara\u2019s story begins anew. For when Robert died, she did not fade away with him: she gathered his compositions, organised them, safeguarded them and promoted them with a tenacity that she felt, she said, was a true calling. And she returned to performing and teaching at the Frankfurt Conservatoire for another forty years, with acclaimed tours throughout Europe; her final concert took place when she was seventy-two.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And yet, even at the height of his success,<\/strong> There remains that little voice that whispers to her to be humble, not to put herself out there too much. Of her own music, Clara herself will say: \u00abIt\u2019s just a woman\u2019s job.\u00bb<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s what she says about herself.<\/strong> Not a critic, not a father, not a husband: her. That is how deeply the idea that someone else planted in your mind as a child can take root over the course of a lifetime. Clara Schumann will, in the minds of many, always and in any case remain Robert Schumann\u2019s wife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now we come to the third wardrobe<\/strong>. Which someone, at last, breaks down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Louise was born into a family of artists, <\/strong>In a bohemian milieu where talent needs no justification, she studied music seriously, not merely for pleasure: she enrolled at the conservatoire, studying under exceptional teachers in a class that had, until then, been open only to men. She joined the class and stood out from the rest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Love \u2013 that, at least, stops her for a moment:<\/strong> At the age of seventeen, she married Aristide Farrenc, a flautist, and set off on tour with him \u2013 not as \u201chis wife\u201d, but as one half of an equal partnership. When Aristide grew tired of life on the road and set up a music publishing firm in Paris, Louise returned to her studies where she had left off, and over the years built up a reputation as a soloist and composer that no one could ignore: two overtures, three symphonies \u2014 the third of which was received with great acclaim at the Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des Concerts du Conservatoire \u2014 and a Nonet that won over Schumann, Berlioz, Liszt and Brahms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 1842, she was called <\/strong>to teach the piano at the Paris Conservatoire. She remained there for over thirty years. She was the only woman in the entire institution.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But for the top ten, that professorship is paid less<\/strong> than that of her male colleagues. And here, instead of suffering in silence like so many before her, Louise fought back. For a decade. And in the end \u2014 perhaps spurred on by the overwhelming success of her Nonet \u2014 she achieved what, even today, remains the most difficult goal for so many women: a salary identical to that of her male colleagues. Equality, yes. Regardless of gender. Despite everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s a small victory<\/strong>, in a century of closed doors. But it is a genuine victory, the first in this series that does not end in regret.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He died in 1875.<\/strong> With her passing, her fame also fades, as is the case with many of the women featured in this book. It is up to us to restore them to their rightful place in the spotlight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Three women, one century.<\/strong> Fanny, who waited forty years to disobey, yet remains, to most people, \u201cthe sister of\u201d. Clara, a key figure of German Romanticism, remains, to most people, \u201cthe wife of\u201d. Louise, who, alone amongst them all, manages to secure not only the right to compose, but also equal pay. Three different ways of answering the same question that Romanticism had posed without stating it openly: muse or author?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Next time, we\u2019ll move on to the 20th century,<\/strong> and I\u2019ll tell you about Nadia Boulanger and Sofia Gubaidulina. But that, as always, is for another episode.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For the time being, <\/strong>Just bear this image in mind: three cupboards, three different keys. And at least one of these keys \u2013 Louise\u2019s \u2013 managed to open the cupboard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beatrice Venezi<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Back to the Blog<\/mark><\/em><\/a><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Il BLOG di Beatrice Venezi – Il secolo che trasform\u00f2 l’autrice in musa. La volta scorsa vi ho lasciati davanti a un armadio chiuso a chiave. Dentro, la musica che Nannerl Mozart aveva scritto e che nessuno, mai pi\u00f9, avrebbe ascoltato. E vi avevo promesso una cosa: che il secolo 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