In Paris
A carriage was driven along at a quick trot toward Paris one hot
summer’s day, and had just reached the village of Choissy, when the
careless coachman drove over a rock and upset the vehicle. There was an
outcry of alarm from the inside. The door was forced open, and four
persons crawled out, one after another, and stood around the wreck in
dismay. They are old acquaintances—Herr Vice Chapelmaster Mozart, his
wife and children.
“Well, this is a pretty business,” said Father Mozart, indignantly.
“Here we are, hardly two hours away from Paris, upset in a wretched
village, and, worst of all, with broken axletrees. We are expected at an
early hour this evening by Count Van Eyck, the Bavarian ambassador, and
now we cannot get there before late at night.”
“Don’t worry, dear husband,” interposed Frau Mozart, “the accident is
not so bad as it might have been, for we have all escaped without
injury. Let us thank God, and hope that the little mishap is not a bad
omen.”
“Never fear, little mother,” said Wolfgang, cheerfully. “I shall not
break down in Paris. You can rely upon that.”
Father Mozart had to laugh at the boy’s amusing consolation, and his
indignation speedily subsided. “Well,” said he, “what has happened can’t
be altered. With divine help we can bear this ill-luck patiently. I
wonder if there is a smith or a wheelwright in the village who can
repair the carriage. Say, driver, how soon can you have the damage your
carelessness has caused made good?”
“We can go on in a couple of hours,” replied the driver.
“And what shall we do meanwhile to pass the time away in this miserable
spot?”
“I can help you about that, sir,” said the driver in a most amicable
tone, hoping they might overlook his carelessness if he were civil. “The
beautiful castle, Choissy-le-Roi, where her Majesty the Queen has her
summer residence, is near here. You can go there and stroll about the
elegant park, and the hours will pass like minutes.”
“Your suggestion sounds well,” replied Father Mozart. “What do you think
of it, dear wife? As we have nothing else to do, suppose we go over
there a while.” The mother gave her assent, and both the children were
delighted at the prospect of frolicking about in the open air for two
hours after having been so long closely crowded in a carriage on the
dusty roads. They set off at once, while the driver went for help to
mend the broken vehicle.
The park, which they soon reached, was shadowy and cool. The trimly kept
walks were arched with a roof of beautiful green foliage. Stags and deer
were browsing here and there on the grass patches, and above the
tree-tops gleamed the towers of the castle, noted at that time for its
stateliness. They greatly enjoyed themselves in the cool shade, and
gradually approached the castle. No one was to be seen except our
travellers. Wolfgang noticed an open door in a building standing by
itself, which, from its construction, he judged must be the castle
chapel. His curiosity impelled him to enter, and Nannie and his parents
followed him. It was a fair-sized chapel and superbly decorated. A very
beautiful organ particularly attracted Wolfgang’s attention, and he
could not resist the temptation to play on it. As the chapel was empty,
and no one could be seen in the vicinity, Father Mozart ventured to
gratify his son’s wish. He went to the bellows, and soon a flood of
beautiful, captivating music streamed through the chapel and out into
the park.
Two richly dressed ladies of distinguished bearing and unusual beauty
were just at this time walking in the park, and heard with surprise the
wonderfully rich tones which seemed to them to come from the sky. They
approached the chapel nearer and nearer, and at last stopped and
concealed themselves behind some thick shrubbery, that they might enjoy
the magnificent music unperceived. It continued a little longer and then
closed with beautiful harmony, softly dying away. Silence once more
reigned in the great solitary park.
“It is wonderful,” said one of the ladies to her companion. “It seems to
me I have never heard such beautiful, such ravishing music before. Who
can the organist be? Our old organist is an excellent player, but he has
no idea of such melody and harmony as that.”
“If you wish I will inquire,” said the other lady; “but the quickest and
easiest way would be to enter the chapel and see for ourselves.”
“No, no, dear,” said the first lady, about to turn away. “Those truly
heavenly sounds have put me in an exalted mood, which I would not have
disturbed. Let us go on. Perhaps we may learn in the morning who this
extraordinary artist is, and the occasion of his performance.” With
these words the lady turned into a denser and more shadowy part of the
park, and her companion followed her without further suggestion.
Father Mozart and his family left the chapel about the same time and
happened to go in the same direction. They intended to return to the
village and look after the carriage, but not being familiar with the
labyrinthine windings of the park, which were made still more confusing
by high rows of yews and beeches here and there, they soon lost their
way, and after wandering about aimlessly for half an hour they at last
stood helpless. “It is too bad that we cannot find our way out,” said
Father Mozart, with some uneasiness. “The whole park is deserted; there
is not a person to be seen anywhere.”
“Oh, yes, father, there is!” exclaimed Wolfgang, whose sharp eyes saw
everything, even through the foliage of the hedges. “Look there, father!
Two beautiful ladies! They can tell us and set us right if they only
will. I will go and ask them.” No sooner said than done. In his usually
bold, informal way, he ran up to the ladies, greeted them courteously,
and said in German: “Beautiful ladies, will you have the goodness to
tell me where we really are?”
The ladies, one of them in particular, who was of exceptionally
distinguished presence, at first seemed displeased with his boldness;
but when her eyes rested upon the pretty boy, who was accosting her so
familiarly, she smiled and replied, also in German, “In the park of
Choissy, my little one. You ought to have known that.”
“Oh, yes, I know that,” answered Wolfgang, “but the park is so big and
has so many walks, and they cross and recross so often, that we can’t
find our way back to the village whence we came.”
“Oh, that is another thing,” said the lady, kindly. “You are now on the
right way. Go down that walk there and you will find Choissy on your
left. But tell me who you are, and how you come to be so far away from
Germany.”
[Illustration: _He greeted them courteously, and said: “Beautiful
ladies, will you have the goodness to tell me where we really are?”_]
“I am Wolfgang Mozart,” he replied, looking as important as possible,
“and these are my dear parents, and the little girl is my sister
Nannerl. We are on our way to Paris, where Nannerl and I are to play
before the King and Queen.”
“You, child!” said the lady in surprise. “What can you play?”
“The piano, violin, or organ, just which is most desired.”
“Impossible! It is impossible for such a little man as you.”
“Why is it impossible? I played last winter before the Empress Maria
Theresa, in Vienna. Why should I not play here? Have you not heard
anything about me?”
“No, my child, to tell the truth I have not.”
“Then you do not read the papers much,” said Wolfgang. “They have had
whole columns about me. Try to remember, fair lady; you must have heard
of Wolfgang Mozart.”
“It would be useless,” said the lady, smiling, “for I scarcely ever read
a paper. But it is a matter of little consequence anyway. If you play at
Court I shall be there, and shall be delighted to renew our
acquaintance.”
“Ah! So you are also attached to the Court? I am so pleased,” said
Wolfgang. “When you get there you will know all about me. I do not play
badly if I am a little boy.”
“Dear me,” said the lady to herself, “can it be possible that—listen, my
child,” she said, turning again to Wolfgang, “can you tell me who was
playing the organ just now in the castle chapel?”
“It was I, and my father was blowing for me,” replied Wolfgang.
The lady was overcome with astonishment. She could hardly believe his
assertion; but all doubt disappeared when she looked into his frank,
open countenance and honest eyes.
“Well,” she said at last, “if this is true, and I have no reason to
doubt it, then indeed you are a great artist, and I promise to use all
my influence to secure your presentation at Court.”
“That is splendid, and I thank you for it in advance,” replied Wolfgang.
“When you see the Queen, greet her many times for me. The Countess
Lillibonne has already told me she is a dear, good, lovely woman, and
she certainly has heard of the little Mozart.”
“I promise you, my child, that I will convey your greetings to her,”
said the lady. “And now adieu. Your parents must be getting impatient,
and I have much to look after before the day closes. Adieu.” She
extended her hand to Wolfgang. He kissed it and took his leave.
“She is a lovely lady,” he said, when he got back to his parents. “She
says she belongs to the royal household, and has promised her help in
securing our presentation to the Queen.”
Father Mozart did not attach much importance to chance promises of this
sort. It was of more consequence to him that Wolfgang had found the
right way to the village of Choissy, and thither they repaired. They
found the carriage all right again, and resumed their journey to Paris,
which they reached without further mishaps before nightfall.
With his usual consideration and far-sightedness, Father Mozart had
provided himself with letters of introduction to several of the best
families in Paris, which secured him an unexpectedly courteous and
kindly reception. The leading people planned a public appearance for the
children in a style befitting their reputation, and succeeded in
engaging a prominent theatre for their concerts,—a favor rarely granted
to travelling artists. The concerts were duly announced and given, and,
as usual, Wolfgang was enthusiastically received by large audiences of
the highest social standing. Father Mozart was greatly pleased, for his
well-nigh empty pockets were filling up again with bright gold-pieces,
and this of course kept him in good humor. After a few weeks’ stay the
situation became still more satisfactory.
Baron von Grimm,[17] a friend of the family and a German by birth, but
very influential in Paris, brought the welcome intelligence one day that
the family would shortly be invited to Court. “For some curious reason,”
he said, “the Queen herself has shown a most extraordinary interest in
our little Wolfgang. It is mainly due to this that we have succeeded so
quickly—more quickly indeed than I had expected.”
“Aha!” said Wolfgang, gleefully clapping his little hands, “do you not
see, papa, this is the work of that beautiful lady at Choissy? She has
at last accomplished what she promised.”
“What lady?” said Baron Grimm in surprise. Wolfgang and his father by
turns narrated the little adventure in the park of Choissy, and Baron
Grimm smilingly but eagerly listened. “Ah! is that so?” said he in a
somewhat significant tone. “The riddle is now clearly solved. This is a
very agreeable surprise.”
“But when shall I play before the Queen?” said Wolfgang, impatiently. “I
am very eager to know.”
“Soon, perhaps, my child,” said Baron Grimm. “It is not possible to say
exactly when, but we will do all we can to hasten the time.”
Wolfgang was satisfied with this assurance. He was not kept on the rack
long, however, for, a few days after this, Baron Hébert, the Queen’s
lord high treasurer, was announced, and invited the family to be present
at an appointed hour in her apartments at the palace of Versailles.
The hour came at last, and Wolfgang found himself in the midst of the
splendors of the French Court, which eclipsed those of the Court in
Vienna. The highest nobility of the land, arrayed in gold-embroidered
costumes and blazing with diamonds, were assembled in a grand salon from
which opened, right and left, elegant suites of rooms flooded with the
brilliancy of hundreds of wax tapers. The family could see this
magnificence only from a distance, for the King had not yet appeared,
and his signal had to be awaited before they could enter. After a
little, a movement in the salon indicated that Louis the Fifteenth had
entered, and about half an hour later Baron Hébert accosted the family.
“Come,” he said in a pompous manner; “his Majesty orders that you be
presented to the Queen.”
They followed him. As they entered the salon, Wolfgang, not in the least
embarrassed by the splendor, uttered a cry of joy. He saw the lady with
whom he had conversed in the park of Choissy and gazed at her with
sparkling eyes. “Oh, it is so nice that you are here,” he said
excitedly, at the same time kissing her hand, which was graciously
extended to him. “You have kept your word, and I heartily thank you over
and over again. But tell me, where is the Queen?”
“Have you not divined, dear child?” replied the lady, with a smile. “I
am the Queen.”
“I am overjoyed,” exclaimed Mozart, surprised and delighted. “I shall
love you still more, for you have been very good to me.”
“And this,” turning to a gentleman standing near her, “this is his
Majesty, the King, who also wishes to hear you play.”
Wolfgang bowed gracefully to his Majesty, who acknowledged the courtesy
with a slight inclination of his head. As he did not clearly understand
the situation, the Queen explained how she came to be acquainted with
the pretty child, and then Wolfgang’s father and sister were presented.
The King addressed a few kindly words to each, and then resumed a card
game with some of his courtiers. Wolfgang continued his conversation
with the Queen, who also presented him to the French princesses,
Victoire and Adelaide, both of whom fortunately spoke German. Victoire,
the younger, was greatly interested in Wolfgang, for she had heard
glowing reports about him from others and was herself a clever musician.
While Wolfgang was having a pleasant chat with her, the King suddenly
turned round, and, looking up from the card-table, said: “Eh, bien! Are
we not soon to hear our little musician?”
There was a deep hush at these words. Wolfgang and Nannie, acting upon
the King’s suggestion, instantly went to the piano and began a
four-handed sonata, which they performed with great skill and
brilliancy. In fact the children played with extraordinary effect. The
King, however, did not stop his card game, and as he apparently paid no
attention to the children’s playing, the rest of the company followed
his example. The performance would have passed entirely unnoticed had
not the Queen and Princess Victoire listened with the closest attention.
They rewarded it with hearty applause, and sought to allay the feeling
of disappointment which the indifference of the rest of the company had
caused. The sensitive feelings and artistic pride of the children had
been deeply grieved, however. The tears came into Nannie’s eyes, and
Wolfgang, indignant at the conduct of his audience, made no effort to
conceal his anger. “Come, papa,” he said in a loud tone to his father,
at the same time slapping the leaves of his music-book together, “come,
let us go. It is easy to see that these people know nothing about
music.”
The vice chapelmaster was alarmed at this loud expression of his son’s
indignation. He feared, and not without reason, that they might incur
the royal displeasure, and he also realized the harm it would do them in
the world if it were known that Wolfgang’s playing had failed to make an
impression at the French Court. He kept his presence of mind, therefore,
and quietly said: “Just as you like, Wolfgang. We will go if you are
resolved not to play any more, but think how you will feel when the
world says, ‘Little Wolfgang Mozart has failed at the Court of
Versailles.’ How could you stand such disgrace? And the world will not
fail to say this if we sneak away now without accomplishing our
purpose.”
“You are right, father,” proudly replied Wolfgang. His sense of honor
was now aroused for the first time, as could be seen by his flashing
eyes. “I will make them hear me, and once they listen I shall succeed.”
Boldly advancing to the card-table, he bowed, and said to the King:
“Will Your Majesty have the kindness to give me a theme for
improvising?”
The King looked up with surprise, for it now occurred to him he had been
so engrossed with card-playing that he had utterly forgotten the
children. “Ah, it is you, is it?” said he. “What do you wish?”
“He wishes you would give him a theme for improvising,” promptly replied
the Princess Adelaide. The King, with an exclamation of surprise, cast a
searching glance at Wolfgang. “Certainly,” said he. “Try this,” humming
a melody from a favorite opera at that time.
“I hope to satisfy Your Majesty,” replied Wolfgang, with confidence, as
he returned to the piano.
The King’s attention had been aroused by the boldness of the child, and
although he did not stop his game, he heard Wolfgang’s playing just the
same. Suddenly he laid down his cards, arose, and said to those around
him, “This is really extraordinary.”
Wolfgang heard him, and there was a gleam of triumph in his face. He
continued playing with increasing beauty, power, and brilliancy, and
closed with a technical display surpassing anything ever before
exhibited. Now all were attentive. Only the tones of Wolfgang’s music
were heard in the great hall. The Queen and the princesses listened with
delight. Tears of sympathy stood in Princess Victoire’s eyes. The King
remained standing, overcome with astonishment, and now and then passed
his hand over his brow as if to convince himself he was not dreaming. As
the last note died away, his loud “brava” was the signal for such a
storm of applause as had never been heard at Versailles before. Princess
Victoire, unmindful of Court etiquette, rushed to Wolfgang, embraced
him, and kissed him repeatedly.
Besides the Queen, there was another lady present who at that time had
great influence with the King, and consequently was all-powerful at
Court—the famous Marquise de Pompadour. Like the rest, she was overcome
by the fascinating performance, and expressing to the King her wish to
see the boy more closely, he brought Wolfgang to her. “A little man,”
said she, “but a great genius notwithstanding. Put him on the table.”
This was done. When the beautiful Marquise—for she was really an
exceedingly beautiful woman—looked at him with her large, brilliant eyes
and smiled, Wolfgang bent forward to kiss her. He was not a little
surprised, however, when she drew back and turned herself away. He could
not restrain his impetuous disposition, and in his deep mortification he
cried out contemptuously: “Ah, who is this that will not kiss me? Has
not the Empress kissed me?”
Fortunately for him, and perhaps for the rest of the family, he spoke in
German, and no one at Court understood that language except the Queen
and the princesses, who were not at all displeased at the contempt which
Wolfgang then and afterwards displayed for the hated Marquise.
To prevent any further imprudent outbreaks on the part of the audacious
little fellow, he was induced to return to the piano, where he delighted
the company anew with his charming and graceful playing. He also
repeated the feat of playing upon the covered keyboard, which he had
performed for the Emperor of Austria. It was greeted with even more
applause and made a greater impression than his legitimate playing, and
this still further vexed and angered him. “They do not understand music
here at all,” he said to the Princess Victoire, to whom he had freely
opened his heart. “You are the only exception, and I will play for you
as a token of affection. Give me some task to perform.”
“What kind of one?” replied the princess. “Can you play a minuet and
write in the bass part beforehand?”
“Why not? I can if you will give me the melody.”
The princess requested her music teacher, Mons. Le Grand, to arrange a
minuet theme for Wolfgang. Le Grand obeyed, but with a doubtful shake of
the head. When it was ready Wolfgang took the composition, went to a
desk, and without stopping or hesitating an instant, wrote in the
correct bass. Mons. Le Grand was surprised, for, though he was an
excellent musician, he could not do anything like that. It was an easy
task, however, for Wolfgang.
“Now then, child, since you have successfully performed my sister’s
task,” said the Princess Adelaide to him, “will you try another?”
“With pleasure,” replied Wolfgang. “What shall it be?”
“Something very difficult,” said Princess Adelaide. “I will sing an
Italian cavatina which I know by heart. Do you think you can accompany
me on the piano without knowing the melody, entirely by ear?”
“That is impossible, absolutely impossible!” exclaimed Mons. Le Grand.
“It is not very easy,” said Wolfgang, “but I will try.”
He sat down to the piano, and Princess Adelaide, who was really a fine
singer, began the cavatina. Wolfgang accompanied her, imperfectly of
course, and sometimes incorrectly, for, as every musician knows, it is
almost impossible to divine every modulation and digression in an
unknown melody. The princess had hardly ended before Wolfgang requested
her to repeat the cavatina, and this time accomplished what human ears
had seldom, if ever, heard before. He not only played the melody with
his right hand, but the bass accompaniment with his left, apparently
with the greatest facility. Ten times over he requested the princess to
begin again, and each time he played an absolutely correct
accompaniment, each time varying it.
The performance was simply incredible, and it is not remarkable that
this feat of almost superhuman skill was greeted with a storm of
applause. All were enraptured. Princess Victoire took Wolfgang in her
lap, hugged and kissed him as if he were her own child, and gave him a
magnificent diamond brooch which she unfastened from her breast. The
Queen lavished dainties upon him, and fed him as if he had been a little
bird. Even the King conversed with the sharp little fellow, his replies
being translated into French by the Queen. The troop of courtiers stood
staring at the wonder child who had thus been honored above all other
artists in the world.