[Illustration: _Standing by the pedals, he trod them and struck the keys
as correctly as if he had practised for months_ (Page 45)]
_Life Stories for Young People_
MOZART’S YOUTH
_Translated from the German of
Franz Hoffmann_
BY
GEORGE P. UPTON
_Translator of “Memories,” etc._
[Illustration: A. C. McCLURG & CO.]
CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1904
Copyright
A. C. McClurg & Co.
1904
Published October 1, 1904
THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
Preface
The life-story of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart contained in this volume
closes with his admission to membership in the Accademia Filarmonica at
Bologna, Italy. Mozart was then in his fifteenth year. Up to that time
his life had been a happy one, free from care, untouched by adversity,
and crowned with continuous successes. He was admired by the people,
considered a prodigy by the greatest composers, and was received with
extraordinary honors at the Courts of Austria, France, Holland, and
England. His twenty remaining years, embittered by enmities and saddened
by privations and misfortunes, find no place in this life-story. They
were occupied almost exclusively with artistic tours, during which he
brought out many of his greatest works, among them, “Mitridate,”
“Idomeneo,” “Marriage of Figaro,” “Don Giovanni,” and “The Magic Flute.”
The last-named opera made its appearance in 1789, and the same year he
began the immortal “Requiem,” the composition of which was so
significant in its relation to his rapidly approaching end. He died two
years later. He was then in impoverished circumstances. His funeral was
of the kind common among the poorest class. No note of music was heard.
No friend accompanied the solitary hearse to the cemetery where this
great genius was left in a pauper’s grave. His life-story in this volume
leaves him crowned with honors, the idol of his time, a marvel to the
greatest musicians, flushed with success and exultant in the pride of
genius, standing on the threshold of youthful manhood, the brightest,
most beautiful, most attractive, most lovable figure in the world of
music. It is one of the attractions of this little volume that it takes
leave of him there, before the sunshine of his life was obscured by a
single cloud.
G. P. U.
Chicago, 1904.
Contents
I The Wonder Child 11
II The Little Virtuoso 20
III In the Wide World 35
IV At the Imperial Court 50
V The Second Violin 70
VI In Paris 85
VII The Cavalier of Music 105
Appendix 119
List of Illustrations
Standing by the pedals, he trod them and struck the keys as
correctly as if he had practised for months _Frontispiece_
_Facing page_
He failed to observe a gentleman who had been watching him with
a quiet smile 16
Hardly had he blown the first cruel notes when the boy, with a
cry of pain, grew deadly pale 72
He greeted them courteously, and said: “Beautiful ladies, will
you have the goodness to tell me where we really are?” 90
{harp} _Mozart_ {harp}
Chapter I
The Wonder Child
Vice Chapelmaster Leopold Mozart[1] of Salzburg paced to and fro in his
apartment, evidently disturbed and anxious. He stopped several times at
the door of the adjoining room and listened intently to every sound
within. Then he would resume his monotonous walk from one corner of the
room to another. From time to time he whispered a hurried prayer. Great
drops of sweat fell from his brow. His face was pale, and showed
unmistakable signs of trouble and misgiving.
The hands of the house clock, which persistently kept up its monotonous
ticking, moved slowly forward. Minute after minute passed, and with
every minute the vice chapelmaster grew more and more anxious. A piano
stood at one side of the room. To divert his thoughts he went to it, and
with trembling hands struck a few chords, whose soft, full tones seemed
to exert a quieting influence upon him. He wiped the perspiration from
his brow, and his dimmed eyes grew brighter as he went to the window and
looked up at the sky.
“Let the dear God do as He wills,” he gently said to himself. “He will
surely do everything that is for our best and highest good.”
He stood at the window several minutes with clasped hands and uplifted
eyes. The sky was overcast with dark clouds, with here and there
occasional glimpses of the blue. The air was sultry and oppressive, and
seemed to threaten a storm. Suddenly the dark cloud-veil was rent, as it
were, and the dazzling sun shed a brilliantly glorious flood of light
upon the beautiful scenery of Salzburg. The glistening sunbeams also
streamed into the vice chapelmaster’s room, and Father Mozart welcomed
them with a serene smile.
“Behold, it is as if the eye of God were shining out of heaven in token
of his inexhaustible goodness and mercy,” he said to himself. “I will
accept it as a good omen, Lord, my God.”
A cheery little nurse with smiling face entered, carrying in her arms a
little boy, vigorously crowing and kicking.[2]
“Look, Herr Vice Chapelmaster,” she said with an expression of the
heartiest delight; “this is what the beautiful sunlight, even yet
glistening upon the roofs like gold, has brought us. If this is not a
good omen, why, then, I am no prophet.”
The vice chapelmaster stretched out his arms to the little boy, held his
hands in blessing over his head, and made no effort to restrain the
tears of joy which ran down his cheeks.
“My God and Lord,” he said with trembling voice, “accept my thanks for
this happy moment, and let Thy blessing rest upon the head of this child
whom Thou hast given me for my comfort.” Thereupon he bent down, kissed
the boy’s forehead, and looked at him for some time with an expression
of the greatest delight.
“And the mother,[3] my good woman?” he asked hastily, as if awakening
from a beautiful dream.
“All is well, Herr Vice Chapelmaster,” was her reply. “The dear little
woman is as lively as a fish in the water. See for yourself.”
He needed no second invitation. In three steps the happy father was in
the next room. His wife, somewhat pale, smilingly stretched out both her
delicate hands, which Father Mozart affectionately kissed.
“My dear wife, you have made me very happy,” he said in a tone which
came straight from the heart.
“Not any happier than I feel myself,” the mother replied. “Let us both
praise God for His merciful help.”
“Yes, but I must insist that you do your praising apart from each
other,” interposed the woman, who stood one side with the still
vigorously kicking and screaming boy in her arms. “You must withdraw at
once, Herr Vice Chapelmaster, for your little wife must have some rest.
You ought to be satisfied, for you have seen with your own eyes that
everything has been done for the best. So go, or I shall be offended.”
Father Mozart smilingly obeyed, after he had kissed his wife, and
returned to his room. He could not keep quiet long, however. His heart
was too full. He must relieve it in the glorious freedom of nature. He
took his hat and cane, quietly slipped out of the house, and hurried
through the narrow streets of Salzburg to the beautiful avenue leading
to the Archbishop’s château at Heilbronn. Here he could give vent to his
feelings without interruption or restraint, for the avenue was usually
quiet, and frequented by only a few solitary pedestrians.
Father Mozart, ordinarily a very calm, sedate, self-possessed man, was
hardly himself to-day, for by the blessing of God a wish, long and
secretly cherished in his heart, had been realized. A little son had
been given him. When he reflected that he would educate and instruct
him, inspire him in his early years with a love for his beautiful art of
music, and, with divine aid, develop him into a great musician, a
thousand hymns of joy exultantly sang themselves in his heart, and his
fancy painted bright pictures of the future. He was oblivious of all
around him. He had no eyes for the attractions of the unsurpassably
beautiful country stretching out in every direction like a blooming
garden. He thought of nothing but his little son. He rubbed his hands
together exultantly, muttered unintelligible words to himself, looked up
with radiant glance into the blue and now cloudless sky, and so far
forgot himself as to indulge in loud and joyous peals of
laughter—laughing upon the public highway!—something which no one before
had ever known the vice chapelmaster to do. He acted really like one
completely beside himself, and so absent-mindedly, indeed, that he
failed to observe a gentleman approaching him from Heilbronn, who had
been watching him for some little time with a quiet smile. The new-comer
stepped behind a tree trunk, and as the happy father was going by
without seeing him, he came up behind him, tapped him on the shoulder,
and said in good-natured banter:
“Why, why, my respected friend and vice chapelmaster Leopold Mozart,
what kind of a whimsical notion are you carrying about in your pate that
makes you behave on the public thoroughfares like one out of his senses?
Never before in all my life have I seen you laughing and acting like
this. It must be something extraordinary that has brought about such a
radical change.”
[Illustration: _He failed to observe a gentleman who had been watching
him with a quiet smile_]
“Guess, friend Adlgasser,”[4] replied Mozart, good-humoredly, as he
freely joined in the laughter of his old, true friend, who had been
appointed court musician in the chapel of the Archbishop of Salzburg.
“Guess! Indeed, it is something extraordinary. Just think of it,
Adlgasser, when the sunshine first broke through the dark clouds to-day,
the dear God gave us a strong, healthy baby, at the very instant of the
first gleam! Is not that well-nigh a miracle, and should not a father’s
heart leap for joy?”
“Oh, friend, if that is the case, all is explained, and I congratulate
you as an honest friend and faithful comrade should,” replied Adlgasser,
as with joyous face he stretched out both hands to the vice
chapelmaster. “My hearty good wishes. May the little one grow up to be a
joy to us all, and some time become as skilful a musician as his father,
our always esteemed Leopold Mozart. It surely was a significant omen,
for it means that this little one will some day illuminate the whole
world like the sun, and all the earth will regard him with admiration as
a true light from heaven. I do not know whence the thought comes to me,
Mozart, but I have a presentiment that this is not only true, but that
he will accomplish this result in a very short time.”
“God grant that you speak truly, dear friend,” replied Mozart,
excitedly. “At least, let us hope we may live to take comfort with the
little one, and that we may bring him up to be a valiant follower of our
noble Mistress Musica.”
“Amen! may it be so,” said Adlgasser, heartily shaking the vice
chapelmaster’s hand.
Arm in arm the two went on, discussing for some time the little
world-citizen who had come fresh from the other side with the sunbeams,
until the sky was all aflame and the towering peaks of the neighboring
Untersberg[5] were transfused as with a golden glory.
“A beautiful evening,” said Adlgasser, “but, if I mistake not, still
more beautiful days will follow it. God has given you a son, Mozart,
and, as I believe, a wonder child. Let us hope he will fill the whole
world with the light of his genius.”
“Yes, let us so hope, but let us put our trust in the help of the
Almighty,” said Father Mozart, with much emotion. “Everything shall be
done, so far as lies in my power, that will make this child a great
artist.”
By this time they had reached the city, where their ways separated. They
parted with a hearty handshake, and each betook himself to his own
house. Father Mozart’s way led him straight to the cradle of his boy.
The little one was peacefully sleeping. He gently kissed him, and in a
silent prayer commended him to the protection of the Lord. Then he went
to his own room, took his violin, and in sweetest tones gave melodious
expression to the happiness of his heart. That was always his way when
his emotions were aroused. He had not played so beautifully for a long,
long time as on that evening; perhaps he never played so beautifully in
his life. Never before, indeed, had there been such a joyous and
satisfactory inducement.