accustomed to these premature manifestations of musical genius, by the
production of a concerto for the harpsichord, written in every respect
according to rule, the only objection to which was its difficulty of
execution. This circumstance at once determined Leopold Mozart to let
the youthful prodigy be seen at some of the courts of Germany. He
therefore carried his whole family, as soon as Wolfgang had completed
his sixth year, to Munich, where they were received by the Elector in so
flattering a manner, that the party returned to Salzburg to prepare for
other visits. In 1762 they proceeded to Vienna, and performed at court.
Here Mozart, when sitting down to play, said to the emperor Francis
I.,—“Is not M. Wagenseil here? he ought to be present; he understands
such matters.” The emperor sent for M. Wagenseil. “Sir,” said the child
to the composer, “I shall play one of your concertos,—you must turn the
leaves for me.” About the same time, a small violin was purchased for
him, merely for his amusement; but while it was supposed to be little
more than a toy in his hands, he made himself so far a master of the
instrument, that when Wenzl, the violinist, brought his newly composed
trios to Leopold Mozart for his opinion, Wolfgang supplicated to be
allowed to take the second violin part, and accomplished the task as
much to the satisfaction of the composer as to the wonder of all.
In 1763 the Mozart family commenced an extended tour, giving concerts in
the principal cities through which they passed. In Paris they continued
five months, and Wolfgang performed on the organ in the _chapelle du
roi_, in presence of the whole court. There he composed and published
his first two works, which, compared with other productions of the day,
are by no means trivial. In April, 1764, the party arrived in London,
where they remained till the middle of the following year. Here, as in
France, the boy exhibited his talents before the royal family, and
underwent more severe trials than any to which he had before been
exposed, through which he passed in a most triumphant manner. So much
interest did he excite in London, that the Hon. Daines Barrington drew
up an account of his extraordinary performances, which was read before
the Royal Society, and declared by the council of that body to be
sufficiently interesting and important to form part of the Philosophical
Transactions, in the seventieth volume of which it is published. But
some suspicions having been entertained by many persons that the
declared was not the real age of the youthful prodigy, Mr. Barrington
obtained, through Count Haslang, then Bavarian minister at the British
court, a certificate of Wolfgang’s birth, signed by the chaplain of the
Archbishop of Salzburg, which at once dispelled all doubts on the
subject.
In 1765, the family returned to the continent. At the Hague, where
Mozart published six sonatas, they remained some months; then paid a
second long visit to Paris, and, passing through Switzerland, reached
Salzburg in 1768. Some time after, the children performed at Vienna
before Joseph II., by whose desire Mozart composed an entire opera, _La
finta Sposa_. Hasse and Metastasio both bestowed great commendations on
the work, but it never was produced on the stage, and the probability is
that its merit was only of a relative kind.
In 1769, Mozart (in his fourteenth year!) was appointed director of the
Archbishop of Salzburg’s concerts. Shortly after he proceeded with his
father to Italy, where he was received with enthusiasm. At Rome he gave
a proof of memory which is still the subject of conversation in that
city. He heard the famous Miserere of Allegri in the pontifical chapel,
and knowing that the pope’s singers were forbidden, under pain of
excommunication, to furnish a copy, or allow one, under any plea, to be
taken, he gave his utmost attention to the composition during its
performance, wrote it down when he returned home, and exultingly carried
it with him to Germany. While in Italy, the pope invested him with the
order of the Golden Spur. At Bologna he was unanimously elected a member
of the Philharmonic Academy. He reached Milan in October, 1770, and in
the following December gave his second opera, Mitridate, which had a run
of twenty nights. In 1773 he composed another serious opera, Lucio
Silla; this was performed twenty-six nights successively. He produced
many other works of various kinds between that year and 1779, when he
fixed his residence permanently in Vienna.
In his twenty-fifth year he was captivated by Madlle. Constance Weber,
an amiable, accomplished, and celebrated actress, to whom he soon made a
proposal of marriage. This was courteously declined by her family, on
the ground that his reputation was not then sufficiently established.
Upon this he composed his Idomeneo, in order to prove what means were at
his command; and, animated by the strongest passion that ever entered
his heart, produced an opera which he always considered his highest
effort: certainly it was the first that showed his positive strength.
Parts of it are in his most original, and grandest manner; but parts
show that he had not quite emancipated himself from the thraldom of
custom. Some of the airs, though far superior to those of his
contemporaries, are too much in the opera style then prevailing, a style
now become nearly obsolete; and when, a few years ago, it was wished to
bring out Idomeneo at the King’s Theatre, it became evident that, if
performed as originally written, its success would be very doubtful. To
Madlle. Weber, on whom the composer’s affections were unalterably fixed,
was assigned the principal character in the opera, and the high
reputation which the author acquired by his work having immediately
silenced the objections of Constance’s family, her hand was shortly
after the reward of his efforts.
In 1782 Mozart composed Die Entführung aus dem Serail, (L’Enlévement du
Sérail,) and here it is evident that he had entirely broken the fetters
which before he had only loosened. Here is exhibited that style which,
in an improved state, afterwards characterized all his dramatic works.
It was on the first representation of this opera that Joseph II.
remarked to the composer,—“All this may be very fine, but there are too
many notes for our ears.” To which Mozart, with that independent spirit
which always characterised him, replied,—“There are, Sire, just as many
as there ought to be.” Le Nozze di Figaro—second in merit only to Don
Giovanni, if to that—was produced in 1786, by command of the Emperor, by
whose authority alone an Italian conspiracy against it was suppressed.
In 1787 appeared, first at Prague, the _chef-d’œuvre_ of Mozart, his Don
Giovanni, which was received with enthusiasm by the Bohemians, but at
that time, and indeed years after, was above the comprehension of the
Viennese public, whose taste, unlike that which prevails in the north of
Germany, still inclines them to prefer the nerveless, meagre
compositions of Italy. “This matchless work of its immortalised author,”
never found its way to our Anglo-Italian stage till the year 1817, when
it was performed in a manner that surpassed all former representations,
and has never since been equalled. The production of Don Giovanni in
London,—which put ten thousand pounds into the manager’s pocket, and
forms an era in our musical history—was so strenuously opposed by an
Italian cabal, that but for the courage and perseverance of the director
of that season, it would have been put aside, even after all the expense
of getting up and trouble of rehearsing had been incurred. The charming
comic opera, Cosi fan tutti, was composed in 1790; Die Zauberflöte and
La Clemenza di Tito, in 1791; the latter for the coronation of Leopold
II.
The last and, taken as a whole, the most sublime work of Mozart, his
Requiem, was written on his death-bed; and having been left in rather an
unfinished state, his pupil, Süssmayer, filled up some of the
accompaniments. This circumstance led, a few years ago, to a dispute
concerning its authorship, some indiscreet friends of the latter having
claimed as his composition the best parts of the mass. The assertions by
which the claim was supported, and the arguments in its favour, proved
unavailing against the internal evidence which the work afforded, and it
is to be presumed that the controversy will never be renewed. A story,
too, that an anonymous, mysterious stranger commissioned Mozart to
compose the Requiem, raised many idle conjectures, some of them of the
most grossly superstitious kind. The matter, however, has latterly been
very satisfactorily explained[2].
Footnote 2:
See Harmonicon, vol. iv., page 102.
This illustrious composer, on whom nature bestowed so much vigour of
imagination, so little physical strength, never seemed destined to
attain longevity. Slightly constructed, and feeble in constitution, he
required more mental repose than his necessities would allow. His mind
did not yield, but his body gave way, and on the 5th of December, 1792,
prematurely worn out, he expired thoroughly exhausted, without any
appearance of organic disease.
It has been said of Mozart, that his knowledge was bounded by his art,
and that detached from this he was little better than a nonentity. That
his thoughts were almost wholly bent on music was not a matter of
choice, but of necessity. Had not his miserably-remunerated labours
occupied nearly all his time, his means would have been still more
limited than they were. But we have reason to think (as we have
elsewhere stated) that his acquirements were far greater than in England
is generally believed; in proof of which we have the best authority for
saying, that once, at a court masquerade given at Vienna, Mozart
appeared as a physician, and wrote prescriptions in Latin, French,
Italian, and German; in which not only an acquaintance with the several
languages was shown, but great discernment of character, and
considerable wit. Assuming this to be true, he could not have been a
very ignorant man, nor always a dull one, out of his profession. But
still stronger evidence in favour of his understanding may be extracted
from his works. That he who, in his operas, adapted his music with such
felicity to the different persons of the drama—who evinced such nicety
of discrimination—who represented the passions so accurately—who
coloured so faithfully—whose music is so expressive, that without the
aid of words it is almost sufficient to render the scene
intelligible,—that such a man should not have been endowed with a high
order of intellect is hard to be believed, but that his understanding
should have been below mediocrity is incredible.
Had Mozart lived, this country, which witnessed his early proofs of
genius, would have enjoyed it in its matured and most luxuriant state.
When Salomon, the celebrated violin player—an enterprising, liberal,
sensible man—was about establishing his subscription-concerts in London,
he went to Vienna to engage either Haydn or Mozart to compose symphonies
for him, and after several “most amicable and pleasant meetings”
(Salomon’s own words) between the parties, it was agreed that Haydn
should first proceed to the rich capital of the British dominions, and
that the following season he should be succeeded by Mozart. The illness
and death of the latter rendered unavailing an arrangement which would
at least have compensated his labours more adequately than they had ever
before been rewarded. The father of modern orchestral music may be said
to have made his fortune—a small one, it is true, but an independence—by
his visits to London; and the creator of an entirely new, an infinitely
superior, style of dramatic music would hardly have been less
successful.
The compositions of Mozart are of every kind, and so numerous, that we
cannot pretend to give even a bare list of them. But it may be observed,
generally, that from the sonata to the symphony, from the simplest
romance to the most elaborate musical drama, he—whose career was stopped
before he had completed his thirty-sixth year—composed in every
imaginable style, and excelled in all. In each class he furnished models
of the greatest attainable excellence: “exquisite melodies, profound
harmonies, the playful, the tender, the pathetic, and the sublime,” are
to be found among his works. It is the exclusive privilege of first rate
merit to be more admired as it is better known; and while inferior
composers enjoy their day of fashion, and are forgotten, Mozart’s fame
will continue to expand in proportion as mankind advances in taste and
knowledge.
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
_Engraved by W. Holl._
LOYOLA.
_From a Print by Bolswert, after a Picture by Rubens._
Under the Superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge.
_London, Published by Charles Knight & C^o. Ludgate Street._
]
[Illustration]
LOYOLA.
The family-name of the founder of the Order of Jesuits, commonly called
IGNATIUS LOYOLA, is stated by Ranke, Romischen Papste, vol. 1, on the
authority of judicial records, to have been Don Inigo Lopez de Recalde.
He was born in 1491, at the Castle of Loyola, in the province of
Guipuscoa, in Spanish Biscay; and being destined to the profession of
arms, was sent, at an early age, to learn the rudiments of war and
gallantry, at the court of Ferdinand and Isabella. He made great
proficiency in both. Endowed with a lively imagination, and an ardent
temperament, he became distinguished in arms, and first applied his
talents, which were destined to such different purposes, to the
composition of poetry. Thus he spent his youth; and he had already
reached his thirtieth year, when he was called to the defence of
Pampluna against the attack of the French. On this occasion he displayed
his wonted valour, and while standing in the breach of the castle, he
was struck by a cannon shot which fractured his leg. A tedious
confinement followed; in part occasioned, as some assert, by his great
anxiety to preserve the symmetry of the limb, which led him to undergo a
second operation, to remove a deformity which had been occasioned by an
ill-set bone. To relieve his weariness he called for some books of
chivalry, but in their place he was supplied with the Lives of Saints,
and other devotional works. He read them with extraordinary eagerness.
He admired the zeal of those holy men; he sympathized in their
sufferings; he envied their glory; and he aspired at their eternal
recompense. His thoughts and wishes were thus turned into a new channel,
and he entered on the path of spiritual warfare, with his natural ardour
stimulated and inflamed by religious devotion.
Accordingly, he rose from his bed of sickness, resolved to renounce the
pursuits and pleasures of this world, and to dedicate himself to the
service of God. Still it was not without a desperate struggle that he
could accomplish this resolution. He had a passion for military fame; he
had a mistress whom it was necessary to abandon; and his earthly ties
were as strong, as his temperament was violent. But the new sprung
influence of religion overcame all obstacles. March 24, 1522, he passed
the night in prayer and fasting in the church of the Holy Virgin at
Montserrat; and having hung up his arms on the altar, he consecrated
himself, according to all the forms of chivalry, to her service. At the
same time he made a vow to perform a pilgrimage barefoot to Jerusalem;
and he carried his immediate penance to such extremes of austerity, as
to enervate his frame, and to endanger his life.
As the histories which had most deeply affected his imagination were
those of St. Francis and St. Dominic, so the service which he vowed to
the Virgin was one of privation and errantry. Accordingly he set out
privately on his pilgrimage; and after tarrying some little time at
Rome, to obtain the benediction of the Pope, he proceeded to Venice, and
from Venice to Cyprus and the Holy Land. He reached Jerusalem, September
4, 1523, in the guise of the poorest pilgrim; and after indulging his
piety in frequent visits to all the spots which religion and tradition
have consecrated, he offered his services to the ecclesiastical officers
resident there, for the conversion of the Infidels, or any other holy
purpose. These however were refused, and he was dismissed, somewhat
peremptorily, and commanded to return to Europe.
It is curious, in reviewing the lives of some of those eminent men, who
have left lasting traces of their exertions, to observe how their own
inclinations, had Providence allowed them their course, would sometimes
have led them away from the work which they were commissioned to
accomplish. Had Wesley proved a successful missionary, which was his
earliest enterprise, the society which bears his name might never have
existed. Had Loyola been permitted to spend his energies in attempts at
converting the Jews or Turks, his life might have been of short
duration, and his name might never have been heard beyond the limits of
Palestine.
When his pilgrimage was completed, and he was restored to his native
country, his passion for religious enterprise and distinction did not in
any degree abate; but he soon discovered that his literary acquirements
were wholly insufficient for his purpose. He began therefore, at the age
of thirty-three, to apply himself to the rudiments of grammar; and
endeavoured to regain lost time by his zeal and industry. He commenced
his labours at Barcelona, and remained there till his pious attempts to
reform a convent of abandoned nuns brought down upon him the vengeance
of their lovers. Thence he retired to Alcala, where an university had
lately been founded by Cardinal Ximenes. Here he pursued his studies
with great ardour till the year 1527: he attempted at the same time the
three sciences of logic, physic, and theology, and was bent on
accomplishing by a single effort what results to other men from the
patient employment of much time and labour. But it was too late in life.
His mind had been already formed to more active pursuits, and he could
not bend it to the acquisition of learning. A confused mass of
knowledge, directed by no reflection, and founded on no principles,
could neither be applied nor retained; and his endeavour to grasp so
much, at so great a disadvantage, ended, where it was sure to end, in
entire ignorance. He discovered his failure; and thenceforward directed
his energies to a more attainable end: and, though he desisted not
entirely from his tardy struggles after learning, he seems rather to
have looked for success from the influence which personal intercourse
generally enabled him to acquire over those about him. Some lectures,
however, which he delivered at Alcala, gave offence to the authorities
of that university; and after an imprisonment of forty-two days, he was
prohibited from public preaching, until he should have completed a
course of four years in theology. It seems too, that, together with two
or three companions, he had assumed a peculiar dress, which they were
ordered to lay aside.
From Alcala he removed to Salamanca; but there too he had no sooner
resumed his preaching than the Inquisitors laid hands on him; and after
a second confinement, with severer treatment, he and his companions were
again dismissed, under a sentence not widely differing from the
preceding. On these occasions it was not so much the character of his
sermons which gave the offence, as the circumstance that they were
delivered by a layman.
Thus discouraged in his native country, he hoped to find a wider, or at
least a safer, field for his exertions in France. Accordingly he
departed for Paris, and arrived there in the beginning of February,
1528. His means were extremely small, and even these had been provided
by the generosity of his friends. He was deprived of all that remained
to him, soon after his arrival, by the treachery of a fellow-student,
and had no other method of subsistence than mendicity. Thus he lived,
returning, as we are informed, with his first ardour to the rudiments of
literature, and striving by his instructions and example to extend the
narrow limits of his influence. Even thus however he was not beneath the
notice of the Inquisitor, a special emissary of Clement VII., then
resident at Paris; but on this occasion he cleared himself from any
charge or suspicion of heresy, and was absolved without any particular
injunction or reproach. But his poverty still compelled him to employ
his vacations in begging, through various countries, the means which
were to maintain him during his studies; and in one of these mendicant
excursions, he visited certain Spanish merchants resident in London.
Doubtless his powers of observation were profitably exercised during
these wanderings, and his perpetual intercourse, even in the character
of a religious beggar, with all classes of all nations, could not fail
to improve a penetrating intellect in the art of dealing with mankind.
By this uncommon perseverance he was enabled to finish his course of
study of three years, and was admitted to the degree of Master of Arts.
Then again he betook himself more especially to theology; and it was at
this time (1534) that he formed the first serious design of establishing
a new Order. Such a project, in the hands of so very humble a person as
Loyola then was, might have seemed wild and hopeless; and the prospect
of its success was not improved by the number or quality of his
associates. Seven individuals, of no distinguished rank or eminence,
personal or ecclesiastical, some of whom were very young and others very
poor, met together in the church of Montmartre, August 15, 1534, and
devoted themselves to the service of Christ. They were prepared for this
solemnity by prayer and fasting. One of them, Le Fevre, who had lately
been ordained, administered the sacrament to his brethren in a
subterraneous chapel; and all then bound themselves, by a solemn vow, to
undertake a pilgrimage to Jerusalem for the conversion of the infidels
of the East, and to renounce all their possessions, except such as
should be necessary for that pilgrimage: or else, in case they should be
unable to accomplish that design, to throw themselves at the feet of the
Pope, and offer their services as his faithful and gratuitous
instruments and missionaries, for the performance of any ministry that
he might think proper to impose on them. Another of these devotees was
Francis Xavier, a Spaniard, fifteen years younger than Loyola; who,
being from the very beginning one of his most zealous disciples, was
numbered in later life among the most distinguished ornaments of the
society.
Such was the origin of the “Society of the Jesuits.” From this little
congregation of obscure enthusiasts in the subterraneous chapel of
Montmartre arose that redoubted Company, which sprang up into such
immediate eminence; which spread so soon through the whole body of
Christendom; which took possession of the courts and the consciences of
princes, and exerted for so many years a scarcely credible influence, in
every quarter of the globe, over the course of human affairs. Its first
professed object was the conversion of the infidels: the entire devotion
to the Roman See, whence its future importance chiefly proceeded, was
not, as it would seem, the primary motive which Ignatius inspired into
his followers. Perhaps the chivalrous feeling which animated, or rather
created, the earliest efforts of his piety, was not yet extinct within
him—or it may have been his policy to put forward, as the leading part
of his design, that which required the greatest sacrifice and offered
the least reward. But, however that may have been, he had no sooner thus
bound his associates together, than he prescribed to them rules and
practices of devotion, daily meditations and penances, spiritual
conversations, the study and imitation of the character of Jesus,
constant self-examination, and frequent communion. He appointed the Day
of the Assumption, the anniversary of their vow, for their peculiar
observance; and during an interval of preparation necessary for his
disciples, he directed his own exertions to repress the progress in
France of the doctrines of Luther and Zuinglius.
After visiting his native country, he proceeded to Venice, according to
agreement with his followers, for the accomplishment of their vow of
pilgrimage: and arrived there at the end of 1535.