On an Eldest Son

Karl’s dad died when he was seven and his little brother and only sibling was an infant. His memories of his birth father, understandably, are muddled and mixed. He was raised throughout the remainder of his youth by his doting mother (who used to be a professional singer as a younger woman) and his step-father and went to school in Prague. The step-father, a man named George, had little to do with him; he didn’t adopt Karl and was happy to send him off to school.

Karl apprenticed to a trading company in Italy. It didn’t suit him Following in his mother’s footsteps (and her deepest wishes), Karl then pursued music as a career when he found the business world too difficult to break into. He took music lessons with some of the most important Italian teachers in Milan, thinking that the occupation of his mother was also possible for him. Besides, it would please her greatly. He soon proved to be a gifted pianist, but he also knew that the music business was so fickle and insecure as a career.

Then, when the opportunity for a position with the Austrian government came along–and with it the promise of steady income, unlike the musician trade–Karl took it. He became an accountant for the government’s department in Milan and a translator for government officials who were stationed there. And so, the oldest son of the family became a life-long civil servant in Italy.

Karl soon realized that he made the correct choice of career in eschewing music for the security of public administration. The job allowed him to enjoy some of the finer things in life as he became an indispensable member of the Austrian delegation in Milan. He hobnobbed with Italian royalty, rubbed shoulders with musicians (with whom he could converse knowledgeably) and artists, and gained a reputation for being a hard worker who took his position seriously.

Karl eventually purchased a sizeable house in a village north of Milan in the foothills of the Alps not too far from Lake Lugano and Lake Como where he enjoyed his life before dying at age 74. Upon his death, he bequeathed the house to the village. As a life-long bachelor, Karl had no other heirs who would make a claim on the property. The grateful village erected a plaque on the house to Karl’s memory in honor of his gratitude.

Karl’s younger brother also never married. However, that little brother did decide to follow his mother’s example and pursue music. You see, music was in his blood because both of these boys also had a musical father. And it makes sense that the younger brother would pursue music as a career because he bore the same name as their father, the father that neither of them remembered well:

Wolfgang Mozart, Junior.

On a Copper Colossus

What if I told you the largest statue in the world for several centuries was a copper statue near Milan, Italy? It’s true. The statue’s skeleton is an intricate system of iron and brick with the copper sheathing overlaying it. It stands over 11 stories tall including the plinth, and it took over 80 years to build.

What is this colossus? Well, that’s part of this story. You see, there was a Catholic Archbishop and Cardinal by the name of Carlo Borromeo who died in 1584. He was famous for having been one of the leaders of the Catholic Counter-Reformation. Most people don’t know much about this important Catholic answer to Luther’s (and others’) calls for reforming of the Catholic faith. Borromeo did much more than merely fight against those reformers; he led the way in calling for abuses within the church to be ended and demanded that changes–many of the same changes the reformers wanted–be made within the church hierarchy and practices. This was seen as radical by many within Catholicism, but Borromeo had the support of some powerful people who realized that if the church were to last long-term, that changes must be made (or at least appear to be made).

When he died, there was a push for him to be canonized as a saint for his work in calling for a return to the core tenants of Christianity. His beatification and canonization came in the early 1600s. Thus, to honor this man, a large statue in the countryside near Milan, his town, was commissioned and built over most of the 17th Century. One of the best designers of that day was called in to handle the job, and money was donated by public and private entities in huge wads to finance it. The statue of Borromeo is large enough for people to walk up inside it and look out over the lake it sits beside. While the copper sheathing is incredibly thin, the iron and brick support system make it immovable even in the highest winds.

The statue depicts the Cardinal cradling a book in his left arm and holding his right arm up in a blessing. The book represents the learning that Borromeo promoted throughout his lifetime; he wanted to make certain that the church was on the forefront of learning, which was, in his mind, a key to understanding and wisdom. Since its erection three centuries ago, the huge metal sculpture has been one of the Milan area’s greatest tourist attractions.

You might be wondering what significance this huge metal statue has for us today. Well, let’s revisit it and see what you pick up. Large copper statue. Book in left hand. Right arm raised. Large enough for people to go inside and to look out from the top. Standing on a plinth.

Yes, now you have it. When the artist, Auguste Bartholdi, wanted to design a large statue in a similar pose, he traveled to Milan to perform a detailed inspection on the construction design of this colossus. He then returned to France and worked with Gustave Eiffel to make the only copper statue in the world that, to this day, is larger than the one of Cardinal Borromeo.

The Statue of Liberty.