Back in my 4-H days, we'd have horse practice three days a week. I hated going to practice and on a particularly rushed day, my mom was harping on me to get my horse caught. I think this was Chiam (Kai-am). I can never remember which one I used which year. His advantage over other horses, he was easy to catch. In addition, it was a hot day. Horses aren't anxious to move on a hot day. So, I walked up beside him with sloppy, careless, yet confident steps. He started walking away. I followed. He walked faster. I trotted along side. He took off. He had never taken off. I ran. With a burst of gas and a flung rear hoof, he kicked me in the upper thigh.
I collapsed in pain. Screaming. Yelling. I lay in the hardened hoof-hacked dirt. Grinding my teeth, pissed off at that horse. Chiam stopped, turned, a wondered back over toward me. He lowered his bobbing head, his eyes carrying apologies. I didn't care. Grabbing a clod of mud, I chucked it at his face. He spooked and ran off. Worst of all, my parents still made me go to horse practice, with Chiam and the hoof-shaped bruise he left on my thigh. (I don't bruise easy.)
And this bring me to Cassandro, the woman-hating rich gentleman, whom Rosina is trying to make fall in love with her. She works her 'pretend simpleton' magic on him, softening him up: until she asked for a ring (of course for all this to happen in one night breaks a bit of time constraint logic). Here's where he breaks into the aria Ella vuole ed io torrei. Something must have happened. Something made him bitter and jaded. The music starts of noble,"I won't" then intensifies with a mix of fear and anger. After the first huff, it sighs as he says, "Once she gets my ring, her love will be done." Following the breather, it gets more intense. With the music, young Mozart nicely flecks out the confused emotions of a once beaten dog, wanting the meat, yet seeing a lofted stick. (The simile is at the end of the aria.)
I would venture to say, La Finta Semplice was Mozart's first occupational kick to the thigh. I could imagine a youth, who'd received nearly nothing but praise, going into this project with lofty hopes, and even arrogant assumptions. Even, if he was correct in his assumptions, I doubt divas and royalty would have taken too kindly to such boldness. They didn't. And, I don't think they even gave him a fair chance. Leopold was no help, either. And, the Mozart's felt that hoof strike. Leopold grabbed his own clod of mud, trying to put a hurtin' on those who refused to pay for the opera. He took the lot to court. In the end, the Mozart looked the fools, and lost their loot. Their looking like fools likely stole away the archbishop's patience for their having been gone much longer than planned.
Consequently (I'm not sure what Mozart learned), Leopold grew shrewder. He lost trust and when he ventured to Italy, he made sure to get payment in advanced. I can't help but wonder if he lost a hint of trust in Mozart? A burrowing mistrust in Mozart social capabilities, that created a need in Leopold to do everything for his son, instead of teaching him to take care of himself.
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