The “celebrity tour” began, strictly speaking, in Munich where the pair
of prodigies performed with sensational success before the Bavarian
Elector Maximilian III, who wished to hear the young people “soon and
often.” But Leopold was out for bigger game and wanted, incidentally, to
exhibit his wonder children to his relatives in Augsburg before
proceeding to world conquests. Besides old acquaintances the “Herr
Kapellmeister” had the good luck to present his “gifts of God” to the
noted Italian violinist, Pietro Nardini, then concertmaster of the court
orchestra of Stuttgart, and to the Italian composer, worthy Niccolo
Jommelli, who was struck by Wolfgang’s abilities but against whom the
mistrustful Leopold harbored various unjust suspicions. In Schwetzingen
the Mozarts had the first opportunity to hear the then unrivaled
Mannheim orchestra, which was to play a significant part in Wolfgang’s
development. He and his sister were put through all their paces as the
weeks went by; besides playing and improvising they were made to perform
all manner of showy stunts. Wolfgang had to name tones and chords
sounded on keyboards covered with a cloth, as well as guess the exact
pitch of bells, glasses, and clocks.
The travelers went on to Bonn, Cologne, and Aachen, where lived the
Princess Amalia, sister of Frederick the Great, whose pressing
invitations to Berlin left Leopold cold as soon as he realized she had
no money; he reflected that the kisses without number which she gave the
children would have pleased him better if they had had cash value!
Finally, after further progress through the Low Countries the little
band reached Paris, where the father discovered that most of his letters
of recommendation and introduction amounted to little. Only when they
were taken in charge by the Bavarian-born Baron Melchior Grimm, a
literary figure of some distinction, did results begin to shape
themselves. A first-rate publicity man, Grimm launched a campaign for
the youngsters in his _Correspondance littéraire_, with the result that
doors promptly opened and invitations began to pour in. On New Year’s
Eve, 1764, the Mozarts were asked to a _grand couvert_ at the court in
Versailles. Wolfgang stood next to the Queen who fed him dainties and
translated for the King—Louis XV—what the boy said to her in German.
The great Madame Pompadour was on hand and the elder Mozart noted that
she must once have been a great beauty for all her present stoutness.
Later, when Wolfgang offered to give her a kiss, she drew back;
whereupon the boy indignantly asked, “Who does she think she is, anyhow?
Our Empress herself did not refuse to kiss me!” Leopold was careful to
note the countless features of the Parisian scene. For one thing, the
abundance of make-up on the faces of the Frenchwomen was something to
revolt “an honest German.” He saw eye to eye with Baron Grimm in his
preference for Italian over French music, declaring that the latter was
“not worth a farthing.” Wolfgang was eventually to share his distaste
for French customs, French art, even the French language. Leopold
brought his son to the attention of several prominent German musicians
who happened to be in Paris, such as Johann Schobert, Gottfried Eckhart,
and Leontzi Honnauer, all of whom registered appropriate astonishment
and presented the children with some of their own compositions, suitably
inscribed. Four sonatas for clavier with _ad libitum_ violin parts by
Wolfgang were printed, and on the title page it was duly noted that
their author was “only seven years old.” For all their charm and
freshness these works clearly betray the improving touch of Leopold.
On April 23, 1764, after an easy Channel crossing, the Mozarts arrived
in London, where the children were announced as “Miss Mozart of Eleven
and Master Mozart of Seven years of age, Prodigies of Nature.” The Hon.
Daines Barrington subjected the boy to “scientific tests,” which
demonstrated that his talents were, indeed, “out of the ordinary.” The
musical George III and Queen Charlotte received them at St. James’s
Palace on April 27. A few weeks later there was another concert before
the royal couple, when the King asked Wolfgang to play at sight pieces
by Wagenseil, Johann Christian Bach, Handel, and Carl Friedrich Abel.
The monarch praised the lad’s performances on the organ even more than
on the clavier, and had him accompany the Queen in a song and improvise
a melody on a figured bass of Handel’s. Leopold wrote home that what his
son knew now completely overshadowed his earlier abilities. At a charity
concert in Ranelagh Gardens they made over a hundred guineas. Yet these
successes did not last: several concerts had to be postponed because of
Leopold’s sudden indisposition; a mental illness of George III increased
alarmingly; the political situation was unfavorable; and the public
began to lose interest in the wonder children.
But apart from the sympathy Wolfgang was always to feel with the English
people, one experience of his London sojourn really outweighed all
others. This was the friendship he and Johann Christian Bach, the son of
Johann Sebastian, formed for each other and the influence the older
musician exercised on the creative genius beginning to blossom in the
child. As Hermann Abert has written, “Christian Bach signified for
Mozart a blithe, elegant counterpart to Schobert by virtue of the
modernized Italianism that came to pervade his style.” The “gallant”
manner, the fresh, playful rhythms of his finales, and the relaxation
modifying the dry composition technique of Leopold’s are elements for
which Mozart is deeply indebted to the “London Bach.” Wolfgang’s early
symphonies and piano music make it plain how much he looked upon Johann
Christian as his model and how fully this master was the chief
inspiration of that “singing allegro” that became a hallmark of the
mature Mozart.
Not only for his boyhood symphonies and sonatas but for his piano
concertos was Wolfgang obliged to his great London friend. His earliest
clavier concertos are largely copies or rearrangements of the concertos
and sonatas of Johann Christian, as of Schobert, Honnauer, and similar
masters. From these seeds came those glorious fruits of concerto
literature that stand among his grandest and most original achievements.
Leopold had overstayed his leave from his Salzburg post but he seemed in
no hurry about returning to it. He had originally planned to go home by
way of Italy, since an Italian trip was regarded as an indispensable
finishing touch to an artistic education. At the beginning of August
1765, the Mozarts landed once more on the Continent. Both father and son
fell ill, and then Nannerl came down with pneumonia and was actually
given the last rites. Wolfgang, scarcely convalescent from a siege of
fever, composed a medley for piano and orchestra—a _quodlibet_ of
popular tunes—the _galimathias musicum_, a thing of rough humors
revealing in its contrapuntal workmanship the tastes and teachings of
his father. Variations on a Dutch patriotic song, six sonatas for violin
and piano, a mellifluous symphony in B flat, and various other “trifles”
indicate that sickness was not regarded as a valid excuse for idling.
Paris, to which they returned in May 1766, seemed less stirred by the
prodigies than it had been on the earlier visit, though Prince Karl
Wilhelm of Brunswick, on hearing Wolfgang, exclaimed in amazement, “Many
a kapellmeister dies without ever having learned anything like what this
child knows!” In July they left the French capital and arrived in
Salzburg the last day of November 1766, laden with gifts and rich in
glowing memories. A considerable quantity of new music from Wolfgang’s
pen filled their luggage. The artist was supplanting the prodigy.
Wolfgang had seen something of the world and had made many valuable
contacts. The Archbishop, Sigismund von Schrattenbach, skeptical of the
brilliant reports he had heard, asked him to compose a cantata—_Die
Schuldigkeit des ersten Gebotes_—and isolated him for a week to see how
much truth there was in all the talk.