“Yes, ‘by this child,’” answered Padre Martini; “but Wolfgang is now leaving childhood. Although a boy, he is no longer a child, and he must now establish his claim as an artist. Though all the world may recognize him as such, he must first of all demonstrate it here. If our decision should elevate him to the rank of Cavaliere Filarmonico, his fame will be established. His piano, violin, and organ record cannot help him here. He must prove that he is a scientifically educated musician, and thoroughly grounded in counterpoint. It is this that makes me doubt.”
“Well, we shall see,” replied Farinelli, who had greater confidence in the young man. “What test will you assign him?”
“The most difficult one I know,” replied Padre Martini. “He must set an antiphon from the Antiphonarium, in four parts.”[23]
It was Farinelli’s turn to be anxious, for the test was so hard that its accomplishment required an absolute and perfect knowledge of musical science.
“You ought not to require that of him,” he said, with some emotion.
“I must do it. He must submit to the most difficult test. The boy is yet very young, and the honor of the Academy is at stake,” replied Padre Martini, unmoved by his friend’s protest. “If he do not succeed it will be no disgrace for one so young, and he will have the consolation of knowing that older musicians have failed in like manner; but should he succeed in this hard contest, then, Farinelli, his fame will be as lofty and enduring as the stars.”
“Manage this matter according to your best judgment,” replied Farinelli, for he realized that nothing could induce the resolute old master to change his purpose. “For my part I wish the boy success.”
“Not more than I,” said Padre Martini, with emotion. “I love this child with my whole heart, and for that very reason I would have him accomplish something great.”
Wolfgang in the meantime awaited his hard task with a serenity which would have appeared foolhardy had he not been sure of his ability to overcome the greatest difficulties without much exertion. The gifted boy had not passed his leisure days at Salzburg in idleness. He had resolutely and industriously devoted them to the study of his art, both practically and theoretically. He had thoroughly analyzed the compositions of such great masters as Stradella, Scarlatti, Durante, Hasse, Bach, Handel, and others, and counterpoint had no difficulties for him. Knowing that he was well equipped, he eagerly awaited his test, anticipating it with impatience rather than with anxiety. It was the height of his ambition to show the world that he was a recognized master of music, and thus secure the friendship and esteem of Padre Martini, whom the Italians almost worshipped, and whose judgment on all musical questions was all-important because it was absolutely decisive.
On the day fixed for the test the cultivated people of Bologna were all astir. A great crowd gathered in front of the large and elegant building where the Accademia Filarmonica held its sessions, and waited with intense eagerness for the result of the test. The public were not allowed to enter the building, but awaited the news of the victory or defeat of a candidate, which was announced from a balcony. This was the old-time custom. The people already knew and admired young Mozart, for he had roused their enthusiasm by his wonderful playing in his concerts, and when he made his appearance about one o’clock that afternoon at the hall, an enthusiastic “Evviva” welcomed him on all sides. His frank, handsome face showed no trace of anxiety or doubt; on the contrary, he mingled with the people as freely and with as much unconcern as if the coming hours did not affect his interests, his honor, his fame, and his future, all of which were at stake. Should he fail, his artistic career would be at an end, and the laurels he had won would be of no more value than heaps of dust and ashes. He might be assigned a fair place in the ranks of artists, but no one would concede him any higher position.