Story-Lives of Great Musicians

by Francis Jameson Rowbotham

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 anticipations which the father had formed with regard to the boy's future, and more especially as those anticipations rested upon the assumption 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 assented 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 space 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 manuscript 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 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.