Story-Lives of Great Musicians

by Francis Jameson Rowbotham

It was with renewed hopes that Leopold and his children once more bent their steps to Vienna, only, however, to meet with fresh disappointments. The Imperial family received them very kindly, but the public evinced little desire to attend their performances. The Empress lived in retirement, and the Emperor was practising a rigid economy in regard to matters of entertainment and display—an example which was followed as a matter of course by the nobility. Moreover, the public taste for art was at a very low ebb, the preference being for music of the lightest description. As if these were not sufficiently serious obstacles to contend with, the twelve-year-old musician was subjected to marked hostility on the part of the chief performers of the city, who not only held aloof from his performances, but did not scruple to vent their envy by speaking disparagingly of his powers. That his son should be thus slighted without being heard seemed to fill Leopold's cup of bitterness to overflowing. To oppose such a phalanx of jealous rivals was impossible, and he had made up his mind to shake the dust of Vienna from his feet and return home, when the arrival of a messenger from the palace turned his sorrow into joy.

'See here, Wolfgang,' cried the delighted father, as he sought the boy's side after the departure of the royal messenger, 'is not this a recompense for our trials and waiting? Here are the Emperor's commands to you to compose an opera—an opera, mark you!—for performance at the Royal Theatre!' and Leopold gave the astonished Wolfgang a hearty embrace, as he thrust the important missive into the boy's hand.

Wolfgang read the letter through with the seriousness which always characterised his manner when his beloved art was mentioned, and then, lifting his face to his father's, he threw his arms around Leopold's neck, exclaiming as he did so, 'It shall be done, papa—the Emperor's commands shall be obeyed!'

Fired with zeal to deserve the confidence thus reposed in his powers, Mozart set himself to work to accomplish his gigantic task. In a short time, with assiduous labour, he had produced no fewer than five hundred and fifty-eight pages of music, and 'La finta Semplice,' as the opera was called, was ready for rehearsal. In the meanwhile, however, the envious ones had formed themselves into a cabal with the object of hindering, and, if possible, preventing its production. All kinds of mean and untrue things were whispered about the work, of which not a single note had yet been seen or heard by any of these detractors. The music was declared to be worthless, and when this slander had been disproved by the testimony of those who were capable judges, another sprang up to the effect that the work was the production, not of Mozart himself, but of his father. This, too, was swept aside only to be supplanted by a fresh outburst of jealousy. Before long these evil reports found their way to the singers and performers, who, from being at first loud in their praises of the opera, began to express a disinclination to take part in the performance, for fear of losing their reputation. Then Affligio, the manager who had undertaken to produce the work, in like manner began to draw back, and put off the rehearsals from time to time. Finally, after a series of such postponements, when brought to bay by Leopold's insistence, the manager declared that he would produce the opera if the father desired it, but that it should not benefit the Mozarts, as he would take care that it should be hissed off the stage. The Emperor was powerless to interfere, as Affligio held the theatre independently of the Court, and nothing remained to be done but to withdraw the opera.

This was a great blow to Mozart and his father, but, though momentarily crushed by disappointment, they comforted each other with the hope that the work would see the light at a later period. It was now imperative that they should return to Salzburg immediately, more especially as Leopold had received an intimation from the Archbishop that his salary must cease so long as he stayed away. Their circumstances were, in fact, much straitened owing to the ill success of their visit, and during the weary months of suspense and waiting they had been living upon the profits of their previous travels. They were not allowed to leave Vienna, however, without a ray of sunshine to cheer them on their homeward journey. Wolfgang had written an operetta, 'Bastien und Bastienne,' founded upon a burlesque of one of Rousseau's operas, and he had the pleasure of hearing his little work performed before a select company of connoisseurs, and of receiving their praises. Nor would the Emperor let him depart without a further sign of royal favour, for he was commanded to write a Mass, an offertorium, and a trumpet concerto to celebrate the dedication of a new chapel in the city. The occasion was an important one, for the ceremony was graced by the presence of the Imperial Court, and it must have been a happy moment for Wolfgang when, having conducted his compositions, he bowed his acknowledgments of the hearty applause which followed. With this comforting assurance of the royal regard was brought to a close an expedition which to both father and son had been filled with trial and disappointment.

Old Archbishop Sigismund, too, was forward in showing his sympathy with Wolfgang on his return to Salzburg; for with a kindness which was unexpected even at the hands of one who had already proved himself to be a true friend, he gave orders that 'La finta Semplice' should be performed in his palace. It was a fitting reward for the Archbishop to bestow upon one whom he had subjected to so severe a test, and both Mozart and his father were full of gratitude. Sigismund, moreover, showed his appreciation of Mozart's genius by making him his concertmeister, though no salary was attached to the appointment. As regards the opera itself, as Mozart was shortly to write a work of a much higher character, not much need be said; at the same time, when we learn that the best judges of the day pronounced it to be in many respects superior to the operas which were then in possession of the stage, and that it pointed 'unmistakably to a glorious future for its composer,' we may appreciate the remark with which one who was himself a great musical judge sums up the opinion passed upon Mozart's first opera: 'Surely, this is extraordinary praise for the work of a boy!'

Leopold Mozart was now resolved upon undertaking a journey to Italy with a view to completing Wolfgang's musical education. At that day Italy stood foremost in the world as the home of music. Of Italy could it be truly said, as it could be said of no other country, that music was native to the soil. The craving for music pervaded every class—to prince, and peer, and peasant alike, music was as natural a possession as the very air they breathed. It was bound up with the people's sentiments and passions, to which it afforded the truest expression, and it was connected to an equal degree with their surroundings and conditions of life. Consequently, every facility existed for the development and encouragement of the art, whilst on every hand there was a steady demand for the best that that art could produce. Thus, as has been well said, there came to be formed in Italy 'a sort of musical climate, in which artists found it easy to breathe.' More than this, it became evident to musicians of other countries, as the years went on, that he who aspired to do great things with his art, and to establish a reputation for himself as singer, player, or composer, must imbibe this atmosphere—for a time, at least—and put the finishing touches to his education under the influence of the Italian schools of composition and execution.

In respect to musical art Germany and Italy were rivals. The music of Germany was to a very great extent independent; but the spirit of creation in Germany was not so universally diffused as in Italy, being, as a matter of fact, chiefly confined to the northern Protestant portion of the country. Again, the operas performed at the German Courts were Italian; the music to be heard in the German Catholic churches was written by Italian composers; whilst both singers and performers were either drawn from, or had been educated in, Italy. The two countries, as we have said, were rivals, and every succeeding year witnessed the growth of this spirit in Germany; but for long Italy held the supremacy in instrumental as well as in every other class of music, as the result of that inborn love of music which pervaded every grade of society throughout the country.

And so in December, 1769, Mozart, who was now thirteen years of age, came to Italy to listen to the brightly-clad peasants singing at their work in the sunny fields; to watch them dancing on the vine-trellised terraces that overlooked the deep blue waters of the lakes; to witness the wonderful processions of the priests through the narrow streets of the towns; and, above all, to hear the grand music in the cathedrals.

Mozart's bright, happy nature was never more in evidence than on the occasion of this journey, which he seemed to regard as having been planned solely for pleasure. His merry jokes and light-hearted conversation served to ingratiate him in the affections of all. Leopold kept up a regular correspondence with those at home, but Wolfgang never failed to add a little letter of his own, addressed either to his mother or to Marianne, in which he joked about the incidents of the journey, the people whom they met, or the friends they had left behind. The letters were a mixture of German and Italian, with an occasional bit of Salzburg patois thrown in to make Marianne laugh. But he relapsed into a serious style whenever he referred to his playing or the performers whom they had heard in the course of their travels.