Story Lives of Great Musicians Part 8

MOZART

MOZART

In a small, barely-furnished apartment in the Archbishop's palace at Salzburg, in Austria-Hungary, on a winter's morning in the year 1766, a boy of ten years of age was seated at a table, his head resting upon his hand and his eyes turned towards the window. Before him were scattered a number of sheets of ma.n.u.script music-paper, several of which were covered with notes, which his childish fingers had patiently traced amidst a plentiful sprinkling of blots and smears.

There was something pathetic about the appearance of the motionless little figure, with its pale face, surmounted by a profusion of brown curls, and the fixed, earnest expression in the large dark eyes--a pathetic seriousness that implied a depth of reflection far beyond his years, and to which the work upon which he was engaged lent additional significance. Thus absorbed, the child paid no heed to the entry of a servant bearing a tray, upon which was spread a simple breakfast; and, following the instructions which he had received, the man laid the tray on the table and quitted the room in silence. Outside the door, however, the old servant paused for a moment in a listening att.i.tude, as if to catch the c.h.i.n.k of moving cup and platter, and thus be a.s.sured that the child had begun his meal. But as no sound came from within, old Hans shook his head gravely, turned the key in the lock, and, muttering to himself, descended the stairs.

[Ill.u.s.tration: '_He paid no heed to the entry of a servant._']

The old servitor was puzzled, and somewhat troubled in mind as well, by the boy's deep abstraction. That his master the Archbishop cherished any feelings of harshness or resentment towards the solitary little prisoner Hans refused to believe. Indeed, the Archbishop had confided to him that he merely desired to test the child's powers of writing original music. But to the old man's mind such a test was far too severe to be applied to one so young, and something in the boy's far-away look had touched his heart and tempted him to disobey the stringent command which he had received not to converse with the little writer. Even now, as he was descending the stairs, he felt almost like a criminal in leaving the boy locked in his room without a word of comfort or encouragement, and he was half inclined to turn back on some excuse to speak with the prisoner and inquire how he felt. At that moment, however, the ringing of a distant bell summoned him to his master's presence.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MOZART.

From photo RISCHGITZ.]

Archbishop Sigismund was pacing to and fro in the dining-room when his servant entered, his forehead puckered with a frown, and his eyes fixed on the carpet. But he at once checked himself in his walk, and, turning to Hans, said abruptly: 'Have you taken the child his food?'

'Yes, your Grace,' was the reply. 'And--er--how did he seem--well, eh?' 'Quite well, your Grace.' 'You are sure of that?' a trifle anxiously. 'Perfectly sure, your Grace,' replied the old man, though he would have liked to have added a word as to his doubts concerning the child's happiness; but the Archbishop dismissed him with a wave of the hand, and, turning away, seated himself at the breakfast-table.

Several floors above that on which Archbishop Sigismund was eating his breakfast the little captive sat patiently toiling at his allotted task. In a sense the old man was right; for the test was as severe a one as the mind of a man who was a good judge of music, and who doubted the truth of what he had heard concerning his little captive's astonis.h.i.+ng genius, could well have devised. The boy was required to set to music the first part of a sacred cantata founded upon the 'First and greatest Commandment'--'Thou shalt love the Lord thy G.o.d with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength' (Mark xii. 30). The Archbishop fully realised the magnitude of the test, and he expected failure--he looked for the child to break down. The time allotted for its fulfilment was one week, at the expiration of which he would find a few boyish attempts at composition, and nothing more.

And why was Archbishop Sigismund so desirous of testing the boy's powers of composition? A short time before the date at which our story opens Leopold Mozart, Vice-Capellmeister at the Archbishop's court, had related to his master some wonderful stories of his little son Wolfgang--how the child had astonished and delighted every one by his playing; how, when the father carried him and his sister Marianne to Vienna and Paris and London, they had been invited to play at the Courts, and how little Wolfgang had been praised by the royal families and loaded with presents; and how he had already composed some wonderful things, including several sonatas for the pianoforte, and a symphony--the latter when he was only eight years old.

There was no exaggeration in Leopold Mozart's description of his child's powers, as to which, indeed, accounts from less partial sources had already reached the Archbishop's ears. None the less, however, was the old ecclesiastic inclined to attribute to a parent's pardonable pride the antic.i.p.ations which the father had formed with regard to the boy's future, and more especially as those antic.i.p.ations rested upon the a.s.sumption that the child was a miraculous genius.

That Wolfgang could play remarkably well for a child of his age was sufficient in itself to justify the extraordinary praise which he had received; but that he was gifted to the extent of writing original music of a sort worthy to be recorded the Archbishop may be excused for doubting. At any rate, he resolved to settle the matter to his own satisfaction by setting the boy to work under conditions which precluded every chance of his being enabled to copy from the works of other composers, and also--and this was a great point with the Archbishop--of his being helped by his father. Leopold readily a.s.sented to the conditions of the test proposed by his master, and so little Wolfgang was duly installed as a close prisoner in the palace, and supplied with music-paper, pens, and ink, and a subject on which to write, in the manner in which we have already described.

And now we must leave him for a s.p.a.ce weaving harmonies in his attic chamber whilst we recount his history up to the present point.

Born on January 27, 1756, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart had attained his third year when the father's attention was first drawn to his fondness for music. In his little daughter Marianne, who was five years older than Wolfgang, he had rejoiced to discover an extraordinary gift for playing, and it was not long ere her music-lessons from her father became a source of attraction for her little brother, who would cast aside his toys and take his stand beside the piano as soon as he perceived that Marianne's lesson was about to begin. There he would remain until the lesson was finished, listening intently to everything that was played or spoken. At other times he would amuse himself by finding simple chords on the instrument, striking them over and over again, and bending his head to catch the harmonies thus produced. At length Leopold Mozart began to teach him, half in fun at first, but very soon in earnest, for it was apparent that the child regarded the lessons seriously.

The father could not conceal his joy at the discovery of such early promise on the part of his little son, whose progress, indeed, was so rapid as to call for special care to prevent his learning too fast.

Marianne had a ma.n.u.script book in which her father used to write simple pieces for her to learn, and very soon he was entering in the book similar pieces for Wolfgang.[11] The rapidity and ease with which the boy mastered these tasks opened his father's eyes to the fact that Wolfgang possessed capacities far above those of an ordinary child. In a short time the boy began to write in the book little compositions of his own, some of them plainly showing that his skill in composing had forged beyond the point at which his tiny fingers had the power to express his ideas.

One day, when Leopold Mozart had brought Herr Schachtner, the Court trumpeter, home to dinner, they found Wolfgang busily employed with his pen. In answer to his father's inquiry what he was doing, Wolfgang replied that he was writing a concerto for the pianoforte. Leopold asked to see it, but the boy was not anxious to have his work inspected, and objected that it was not finished. 'Never mind,' said Leopold, 'let me see it. It must be something very fine.' Taking the paper into his hand, the father and his friend glanced at it curiously. The sheet was bedaubed with ink-smears which almost concealed the notes; the child had dipped his pen each time to the bottom of the ink-bottle, so that when it reached the paper it had dropped a huge blot. This had not disturbed him in the least, however, for he had merely rubbed his hand over the offending blot and proceeded with his writing.

At first sight both Leopold and his friend laughed to see the manner in which the composer had traced the notes over the smudges, but soon Schachtner observed the father's eyes fill with tears of delight and wonderment as he began to follow out the theme. 'Look, Herr Schachtner!' he cried. 'See how correct and orderly it is! Only it could never be of any use, for it is so extraordinarily difficult that no one in the world could play it.'

Wolfgang at this looked up quickly into his father's face. 'That is why it is a concerto,' he explained, with flushed cheeks. 'People must practise until they can play it perfectly. Look! This is how it goes;'

and he began to play it on the piano, but only succeeded in bringing out sufficient to show his hearers what he meant it to be.

His ear for music was wonderfully fine, for when only seven years old he could detect the difference of half a quarter of a tone between two violins. It was an ear of such extreme delicacy, in fact, that anything in the shape of rude or harsh sounds caused him positive distress. On one occasion Schachtner, at the request of Leopold Mozart, who imagined that Wolfgang's aversion to loud sounds was a mere childish fancy, blew a blast upon the trumpet towards the child, but he regretted it the next moment, for the boy nearly fainted away at the shock.

'What took others months of practice to achieve came to him as a gift of G.o.d,' 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 G.o.d 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 n.o.bleman 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 Ma.s.s 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: '_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 pa.s.s 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 Schonbrunn. 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 grat.i.tude, 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, gla.s.s, 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: '_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 cla.s.ses, 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 ba.s.s 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 pa.s.sengers 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 astonis.h.i.+ng 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 grat.i.tude and astonishment. The advertis.e.m.e.nt 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: '_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 grat.i.tude 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 s.h.i.+llings 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 Na.s.sau-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 t.i.tle of 'Rucken.' 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 a.s.sert 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 p.r.o.noun _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!'