of God,' his father used to say; and truly there seems to have been
something of the miraculous about Wolfgang's powers. His violin
lessons had hardly begun when one evening, as Leopold Mozart, Herr
Schachtner, and Herr Wentzl were about to play a set of six trios
composed by the last-named musician, Wolfgang put in a plea that he
might be allowed to play second violin! Needless to say, his request
was refused as a matter of course. The child, however, persisted, and
at length he was told that if he were careful to make no sound he
might sit beside Herr Schachtner with his violin and bow, to make
believe that he was playing.
The first trio began, but it had not proceeded far ere Schachtner's
attention was drawn to the boy at his side. He was actually playing
the part--and playing it correctly! The second violin ceased bowing in
astonishment, and allowed Wolfgang to go on alone, which he did to the
end. Schachtner and the father exchanged glances, and the former
perceived that Leopold's eyes were full of tears. After this trial the
boy was allowed to play in the remaining pieces, unaccompanied by
Schachtner. At the conclusion, emboldened by success, he volunteered
to play the first violin's part--an offer which was greeted with
laughter; but, nothing daunted, he seized his violin and began, and
although he made many mistakes, and was on the point of breaking down
several times, he persisted to the end.
With his devotion to music and all that concerned the art, Wolfgang
possessed a lovable, affectionate nature that yielded a ready
obedience to his parents' wishes. For his mother, Anna Maria, and his
sister Marianne he showed great fondness, but before either of these
he placed his father. 'Next to God comes papa,' he used to say. He
could be very merry on occasions, but a natural seriousness which
showed itself in connection with his love for music gave rise to fears
that he would not survive his childhood. Music to him was
all-absorbing--everything else had to yield to it, and nothing could
take its place. When Herr Schachtner, who had grown very fond of the
child, carried him from one room to another the march had to be
accompanied by the beating of a drum, and the only toys he cared for
were such as could make music. When musical sounds were not actually
forthcoming the rhythmical movements of his body and limbs implied
their existence beneath the surface.
The family were in poor circumstances, for Leopold Mozart had no means
beyond the salary which he received from the Court. The discovery of
his children's gifts, therefore, offered the father a strong
inducement to turn their powers to advantage, both for the supply of
the family's needs and to provide for Wolfgang and Marianne a sound
education in music. With this object he determined to travel with the
children, as Salzburg itself offered no facilities for making their
talents known. A first experiment in January, 1762, proved so
successful that in the following September they set out for Vienna
with the object of playing before the Imperial Court. Wolfgang was at
this time six years old, and Marianne eleven. At Linz, where they
stopped for several days, they gave a successful concert under the
patronage of the Governor-General of the province. Every one was
delighted with the playing of the children, and they were fortunate in
securing the presence of a young nobleman who happened to be visiting
at the Governor's house on his way to Vienna, for he was sure to carry
the news of what he had heard to the capital. From this point they
continued their journey by water as far as the monastery of Ips, where
they purposed resting for the night.
The grey old building, seated on the banks of the Danube, with the
waters of the river lapping the base of its walls, looked invitingly
restful to the travellers who sought its seclusion on that sultry
September afternoon. Three friars who formed part of the travelling
party entered the monastery at the same time, and on their retiring to
say Mass in the chapel Wolfgang contrived to slip in behind them
unperceived and to make his way into the organ-loft. Shortly
afterwards the Franciscan monks, who were entertaining a party of
guests in the refectory, were startled at hearing the organ pealing
forth from the chapel. One of the hosts left the table to ascertain
who the player could be, and, hastily returning, beckoned the company
to follow him. On reaching the chapel they paused to listen, holding
their breath, as their companion pointed to the tiny figure of a child
seated in the loft. Was it possible, they asked themselves, that a
child could produce such beautiful music? They remained standing,
rooted to the spot by the enchanting strains which poured from the
organ, until Wolfgang, happening to espy them, brought his voluntary
to a close and crept meekly down from his perch.
[Illustration: '_They remained standing, rooted to the spot._']
Throughout the remainder of their journey to Vienna Wolfgang was the
life of the party, full of spirits and eager curiosity to learn the
name and history of everything they met. At the customs-house on the
frontier he made friends with the officials, and secured an easy pass
for the party by playing an air on his violin. Every one was charmed
with his conversation and sprightly intelligence, and, above all, with
his music.
When they reached Vienna it was to find that the fame of the
children's playing had preceded them through the reports of those who
had witnessed the performance at Linz. A Court introduction was easily
obtained, for the royal family were desirous of hearing the prodigies,
and an early day was fixed for the visit to Schönbrunn. It was
fortunate for Leopold Mozart that the Imperial family were devoted to
art. Charles VI. was an accomplished musician; his daughter, the
afterwards Empress Maria Theresa (of whom we have already heard in our
story of Haydn), had from an early age shown a fondness and talent for
music; whilst the Emperor Joseph not only sang well, but played the
harpsichord and violoncello.
A kind and gracious welcome awaited the party on their arrival at the
palace. The Emperor took to Wolfgang at once, and was so delighted
with his performance that he called him 'kleinen Hexenmeister' (little
magician), and forthwith set to work to test his powers to the
uttermost. Not only was the boy made to play difficult pieces at
sight, but he instantly complied with the Emperor's joking suggestion
that he should play with one finger. The keyboard was then covered
with a cloth, so as to conceal the notes, but Wolfgang played just as
finely as before, receiving for this crowning feat the loud applause
of the company. The children were treated with great kindness by both
the Emperor and Empress; and Wolfgang showed his affection for the
august lady by climbing into her lap and giving her a hug, just as he
might have done to his mother. The performance at Court was repeated
on several occasions, each time with greater applause; and amongst the
audience was the beautiful Marie Antoinette, who, later on, became
Queen of the French. The boy evinced a strong fancy for the Princess,
and one day, when he happened to slip on the polished floor and was
helped to his feet by the Princess's hand, he turned to her with a
grave air and said, 'You are very good, and I will marry you,' 'Why,
pray?' inquired Marie, with a smile. 'Out of gratitude, of course,'
responded Wolfgang, still more gravely.
He was not in the least shy at being called upon to perform before
personages of the highest rank, his behaviour to all being that of a
simple, unspoilt child. But when it came to the point of playing, the
serious concentration of which we have before spoken would take
possession of him, and everything else had to take a secondary place.
Not even the Emperor himself could then claim precedence of the
composer, should the latter happen to be present. 'Where is Herr
Wagenseil? Is he here?' inquired Wolfgang on one occasion, when about
to play a concerto composed by the Court musician. 'Pray let him come;
he knows something about it.' The father understood this request to be
in keeping with the boy's desire to play before a capable judge--a
condition upon which he invariably insisted whenever practicable. At
the bidding of the youthful performer Herr Wagenseil approached. 'Ah,
Herr Wagenseil!' said Mozart, turning to him, 'I am about to play one
of your concertos, and I want you to turn over for me.' The Emperor
happened to be standing next to the boy, but he smilingly made way for
the composer at once.
Needless to say, after the favours shown them at Court, the children
at once became the rage in Vienna society. Invitations poured in from
every quarter, and as for Wolfgang, all the ladies lost their hearts
to the little fellow. The visit, however, was not without alloy, for
Wolfgang contracted scarlet fever, and on recovery was shunned for
fear of infection; but, on the whole, Leopold Mozart had good reason
to be satisfied with the success of his experiment. The children were
loaded with presents, but they valued none more than those which were
bestowed by the hands of the royal family, Wolfgang's present
consisting of a violet-coloured suit, trimmed with broad gold braid,
which had been made for the Archduke Maximilian; and Marianne's of a
pretty white silk dress. A painting of Wolfgang in his gala suit,
which was executed at the time of their visit, is still preserved.
The following year Leopold Mozart undertook a longer journey, with the
object of making Paris the end of their travels, but they stopped at
various towns by the way for the purpose of giving concerts. At
Frankfort the first performance was so successful that it was decided
to give three more. An announcement in the newspaper at the time
describes Mozart as capable of naming 'all notes played at a distance,
whether singly or in chords, on the clavier, or on any other
instrument, bell, glass, or clock.' Leopold also gave out as an
additional attraction that Wolfgang would play with the keyboard
covered--a fact which shows that the Emperor's test had not been
forgotten. It was whilst they were at Frankfort that a boy of fourteen
came to one of the concerts and saw Mozart in his frizzled wig and
sword, and heard him play. That boy was Goethe the poet.
They stayed five months in Paris, played before the Court at
Versailles, and excited astonishment and enthusiasm both there and
wherever else they performed. The mother accompanied them on this
long expedition, and on New Year's Day the family were conducted to
the royal supper-room, where the Queen drew Wolfgang to her side, fed
him with sweetmeats, and conversed with him in German.
[Illustration: '_Played before the Court at Versailles._']
From Paris they journeyed, in April, 1764, to London, finding lodgings
in Cecil Court, St. Martin's Lane. London, with its crowded, busy
thoroughfares, its thronged markets, and its discordant street-cries,
must have seemed a strange place to the little travellers after their
experience of Continental cities. In regard to music itself, also, the
contrast must have been equally striking. The English were not
reckoned to be a musical nation, however much we loved music in our
homes and in the simple services of our churches; moreover, there was
an absence of the patronage extended to the art by the rich and
powerful classes, such as one would have met with on the Continent.
Hence its cultivation was slow, and pursued under immense
disadvantages. Nevertheless, the English knew how to appreciate good
music, and London was the centre to which all the greatest performers
were attracted, because they were sure, not only of receiving the
heartiest of welcomes, but of reaping more money by their performances
as well. English liberality and English appreciation have always
secured for our country the very best that the arts could produce.
Leopold's first care on reaching London was to obtain an introduction
at Court. In this he was again fortunate, for King George III. and his
Consort were exceedingly fond of music, and it was not long before an
invitation came for the children to attend at the royal palace. King
George showed the greatest interest in Wolfgang, placing before him a
number of difficult pieces by Bach and Handel, with the request that
he would play them at sight. The manner in which the boy fulfilled
his tasks evoked the enthusiastic applause of the great company
present at the performance, and the plaudits were redoubled when,
after accompanying the Queen in a song, he selected the bass part of
one of Handel's airs and improvised a charming melody to it. The King
was so impressed with his powers that he would not let him go until he
had tried the organ, in the playing of which Wolfgang achieved a
further triumph.
June 4 was fixed for celebrating the King's birthday, and for several
days before this event the coaches had been arriving in London loaded
with passengers from all parts of the country. Leopold Mozart had
fixed the following day--June 5--as the date for his first public
concert, and as the fame of the young musicians had by this time been
noised abroad, the hall was filled to overflowing. The father was
staggered by the success of the concert. 'To think,' he wrote home the
next day, 'that we took one hundred guineas in three hours!' That so
great a sum should be willingly paid in order to hear a child of eight
perform must, indeed, have been astonishing to one who had hitherto
had no experience of English munificence. Many of the performers,
moreover, declined to take any fee for their services--a fact which
served to add to the father's gratitude and astonishment. The
advertisement of the concert described Wolfgang and Marianne as
'prodigies of Nature,' and expressed the hope that Wolfgang would meet
with success in a country which had afforded such marked appreciation
and protection to his countryman Handel.
A few weeks later Wolfgang played the harpsichord and organ at
Ranelagh Gardens, a celebrated pleasure resort of the Londoners of
those days, on behalf of a public charity, and held the delighted
attention of a huge crowd which had gathered to hear him. Not long
after this Leopold Mozart was seized with severe illness, and when he
was recovering, the family removed to Chelsea for the sake of the air
and quiet. Chelsea at that time was a riverside village, and the
lodgings of the Mozarts were in Five Fields, a name which conveys a
pleasant suggestion of the country, but, alas! it has long since lost
its ancient signification with its change to Lower Ebury Street,
Pimlico.
[Illustration: '_Chelsea at that time was a riverside
village._']
As the children were not allowed to play any instrument, Wolfgang
spent the time in composition, and one day he confided to Marianne
that he was composing a symphony, and begged her not to forget to
remind him to give a good part to the horns, the horn being a very
favourite instrument with him in those days. The great work was duly
completed, and the father having regained his strength, the family
returned to town. They were accorded a further gracious reception at
Court, and in token of his gratitude Leopold Mozart printed six of
Wolfgang's sonatas for harpsichord and violin, and dedicated them to
the Queen, whose acceptance of the works was accompanied by a present
of fifty guineas. At the concerts which followed the overtures were
all of Wolfgang's composing, and on one occasion the children won
great applause by the performance of a duet for four hands, written by
Wolfgang, a style of composition which was then quite new. The novelty
of the prodigies, however, had to some extent worn off, and the public
were by no means so eager to patronise their performances. Leopold
endeavoured to reawaken interest in their doings by announcing private
exhibitions of the children's skill 'every day from twelve to
three--admittance two shillings and sixpence each person,' but despite
the smallness of the fee, and the fact that it included the privilege
of testing the powers of the performers by the audience, the number of
visitors was very small.
In July, 1765, the family left London to visit the Hague, but now for
the first time heavy misfortune attended their journey. Both Wolfgang
and Marianne fell ill--the latter so dangerously as to cause Leopold
the deepest anxiety. No sooner had Marianne recovered than Wolfgang
was struck down a second time with violent fever, and it was several
weeks before he was sufficiently strong to resume his travels. During
his convalescence, however, he was so eager to pursue his studies that
he had a board laid across the bed to serve as a table on which to
compose. Their reception at the Hague was gracious and kindly, both
the Prince of Orange and his sister, Princess Caroline of
Nassau-Weilburg, showing a deep interest in their playing. After
leaving the Hague they paid a second visit to Paris, where they added
to their former triumphs, in addition to playing at many towns by the
way, and, finally, the long tour was brought to a close by the return
of the family to Salzburg in November, 1766.
Up till now we have seen Mozart chiefly in the light of a musical
prodigy, exciting delight and astonishment by the exhibition of his
marvellous powers. By those around him, however, Wolfgang was beloved
for his own sake--for the simple, affectionate boy that he was.
Notwithstanding the praise which had been lavished upon him during his
travels, he remained unspoilt, and, apart from his music, as
child-like as ever. When not engaged in actual composition, his mind,
in the course of his long journeys, had been occupied with the
creation of an imaginary kingdom, peopled entirely by children, to
which he had given the title of 'Rücken.' Of this kingdom he supposed
himself to be king, and he was never tired of planning and arranging
its buildings, drawing maps of the towns, framing the laws under which
it was to be governed, and generally providing for the comfort and
happiness of his subjects. It was all the outcome of a natural
tenderness of heart which was equally shown in his relations with
strangers and friends--a desire to place others before himself.
At times, however, he could assert himself with considerable force. On
one occasion, shortly after his return to Salzburg, a gentleman of
rank in the town called upon the family, and being desirous of
conversing with Wolfgang, was at a loss how to address him. The formal
pronoun _sie_ could hardly be used to a child; _du_, on the other
hand, implied a familiarity which might be resented by so celebrated
an artist; the gentleman, therefore, took refuge in _wir_, and thus
began: 'So _we_ have been in France and England,' '_we_ have been
introduced at Court'; '_we_ have been honoured'; when Wolfgang
interrupted him hastily. 'And yet, sir, I do not remember to have seen
you anywhere but in Salzburg!'
* * * * *
We must now return to the point at which we left our hero in his room
in the Archbishop's palace. The little musician realises that upon his
shoulders rests the burden of justifying to the Archbishop his
father's expressed belief in his powers, and love and gratitude
whisper to him that he cannot do too much in striving to uphold the
judgment of his beloved parent. His gratitude to his father was only
what might have been looked for in one so naturally thoughtful for
others. Leopold Mozart had, indeed, made great sacrifices for his
children, and he was prepared to go to even greater lengths of
self-denial in order to procure for them a good education, and to
found a musical career for the son in whose God-sent gifts he placed
the most implicit faith. 'I offer my children to my country,' he wrote
to a friend at this time. 'If it will have none of them, that is not
my fault, and will be my country's loss.'
And so, prompted by love and gratitude, Wolfgang works on until at
last the long task is finished, and the composer lays down his pen
with a sigh of relief. 'What will the Archbishop think of the work?
Will he laugh at it, and tell the father that he is mistaken in
believing that his son can write good music? Would this week of toil
be thrown away, and the sheets be cast into the fire?'
Such are the thoughts of the child-musician as he glances anxiously
through the manuscript. 'Yet, no; it has some good points--as a
musician he is sure of that--and surely his Grace will not fail to
observe those good points.'
Mozart's fears were groundless. When the old Archbishop came to
inspect the work, his face showed the pleasure and astonishment which
he felt. Boyish the workmanship may have been, yet there was nothing
of boyishness about the music itself. Wolfgang had taken the Italian
oratorio as his model, and the result showed how completely he had
mastered its forms. Such was the verdict which the connoisseurs passed
upon the work, nor did those judges fail to call attention to its
dignity and delicacy of expression, its well-chosen harmonies, and the
flowing melodies that were a foreshadowing of the Mozart of later
years. The cantata--the two remaining parts of which were composed by
the Court musicians--was performed with great success during Lent,
1767, by the students of Salzburg University, and in the programme the
eye of the composer met the words, 'The first part of this work was
set to music by Herr Wolfgang Mozart, aged ten years.'
Wolfgang's studies had been much interrupted by travel, and now that
they were home again his father began to give him regular instruction
in counterpoint as a solid groundwork for future composition. There
were many little breaks in these studies, however, and one which
afforded Wolfgang immense delight whenever it came round was to visit
the monastery of Seeon, with the monks of which he was on a footing of
firm friendship. For one of the priests, known as Father Johannes, the
boy had a deep affection; and whenever the good man made his
appearance, Wolfgang would spring to embrace him, and, stroking his
cheeks, would sing his greeting to a little air of his own:
[Illustration: Mein Han-serl! liebs Han-serl! liebs Han-serl!]
The monks were always teasing Wolfgang about his tune. On Father
Johannes' fête-day the boy presented him with an offertory of his own
composing, in which he introduced the little melody as a birthday
greeting. The caressing little air runs through the piece, and is
'twice interrupted by the words, "Ecce Agnus Dei, qui tollit peccata
mundi" (Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the
world), given in a quiet, serious manner that has a charming effect.'
Good Father Johannes had no need to feel ashamed of the moisture which
gathered in his eyes as he scanned this tender little offering of his
child-friend on his birthday morning.
But the visits to the old monastery were to be interrupted by a
further period of travel. Vienna was making great preparations for
celebrating the betrothal of the Archduchess Josepha, who had made
herself beloved of the people, and Leopold Mozart was desirous of
being present with his children at the festivities. Accordingly, they
set out in September, 1767, but no sooner had they arrived at the
capital than they were met by the news that the Princess had been
struck down with small-pox. A few days later the tidings of her death
spread grief and consternation throughout the city. The dread of
infection caused the nobility to flee the place, and Leopold hastened
to remove the children to Olmütz. Their efforts to escape, however,
were vain, for both children developed the disease, and for nine days
Wolfgang was quite blind. A good Samaritan, in the person of Count von
Podstatzky, Dean of Olmütz, received the family into his house, with a
noble indifference to the risk which he incurred, and treated them
with every kindness and consideration, so that with good nursing
Wolfgang and Marianne soon recovered.