Mozart knew how to make the most of these improved instruments. His playing and his intelligent admiration so won Stein's approbation, that the latter followed the advice Wolfgang gave him concerning the education of his daughter. Maria Anna Stein (b. 1769) was the prodigy of Augsburg; in April, 1776, she had played her first concerto to universal admiration, and had received a beautiful medal from the town nobility.[ 10 ] Wolfgang's criticism on her playing to his father (October 24, 1777) is somewhat severe, but so important as showing his views on pianoforte-playing in general that it must be given entire. The memory of the excellent Frau Nanette Streicher will not suffer from the bold criticism of the young Mozart:—
A propos of his daughter. Whoever sees her and hears her without laughing must be as much of a stone (Stein) as her father himself. She sits right up in the treble, instead of in the middle of the instrument, so that she may be better able to move about and make grimaces. Her eyes roll, and she simpers and smirks. If a thing comes twice over, it is played slower the second time; and if a third time, it is slower still. The arm goes high, up in the air when a passage comes, and the emphasis is given by the whole arm instead of the finger, clumsily and heavily. But the best of all is when, in a passage that ought to flow like oil, the fingers have to be changed; it makes no difference at all to her, but, when the time comes, up goes her hand, and she begins again quite calmly; so that one is always in expectation of a wrong note, which makes the effect very striking. I only write all this to give you some idea of what clavier-playing and teaching may be brought to; I leave you to make your own use of the hints. Herr Stein is quite infatuated over his daughter; she is eight and a half years old, and learns everything by heart. She may turn out something—she has genius; but as she is going on at present she will not turn out anything; she will never gain fluency, because she is doing all she can to make her hand heavy. She will never learn the most difficult and most necessary part of music, that is time, because she has been accustomed from her earliest youth to play out of time. Herr Stein and I had at least two hours' talk on this point. I think I nearly converted him, and now he asks my advice about everything. He was quite infatuated in Beecké. Now he sees and hears that I play better than Beecké, that I make no grimaces, and yet play with so much expression that I show off his pianofortes better than any one. The correctness of my time MUNICH AND AUGSBURG. astonishes them all. The tempo rubato in an adagio, with the left hand keeping strict time, was quite past their comprehension; they always follow with the left hand.[ 11 ]
The expressions about Beecké, who was considered among the best pianoforte-players, are only repetition of what was said on all sides. "Count Wolfegg, and several others who are very enthusiastic for Beecké, said lately at a public concert that I had thrown Beecké quite into the shade," writes Wolfgang in confirmation of his own opinion. Even Archbishop Hieronymus was reported to have said aside to his favourites that Beecké was a charlatan and a merry-andrew, and that Mozart far surpassed him (June 29, 1778). He played a tolerably difficult sonata by Beecké, prima vista, "miserabile al solito"; how the kapellmeister Graf and the organist Schmitthauer crossed themselves over the performance may be better imagined than described.
Mozart's organ and violin-playing created quite as much astonishment as his performances on the clavier:—
When I told Herr Stein that I should like to play upon his organ (in the Barfüsserkirche), for that I had a passion for the organ, he was greatly astonished, and said: "What! a man like you, a clavier-player, willing to play on an instrument which has no douceur, no expression; which allows of neither piano nor forte, but goes on always the same!" "All that has nothing to do with it. To my mind, the organ is the king of all instruments." "Well, do as you like." So we went together. I could guess by his way of talking that he did not expect me to do his organ much credit; he thought I should play clavier fashion. He told me how he had taken Chobert to the organ according to his request. "And I was sorry," said he, "for Chobert had told everybody, and the church was full. I had imagined the fellow would be full of spirit, fire, and rapidity, and that would tell on the organ; but as soon as he began I changed my opinion." I only said, "What do you think, Herr Stein? Are you afraid that I shall come to grief on the organ?" "Ah, you! that is quite different." We went into the choir; I began to prelude, at which he laughed with delight; then followed a fugue. "I can well believe," said he, "that you enjoy playing the organ, when you play like that." At first I did not quite understand the pedal, because it was not divided. It began C, then D E in a row. With us D and E are above, where E flat and F sharp are here. But I soon grew accustomed to it.
He played the organ also in the monastery of St. Ulrich, which had the dreadful steps, and often visited the monastery of the Holy Cross, where he was invited to dine on October 19, and entertained with music during the meal (October 24, 1777).
However badly they may play, yet I prefer the music of the monastery to the Augsburg orchestra. I played a symphony and the violin concerto in B flat by Wanhall with universal applause. The Dean is a good, jolly fellow; he is a cousin of Eberlin's, named Zeschinger, and remembers papa very well. In the evening at supper I played the Strasburg concerto (219 K.). It went as smooth as oil. They all praised the beautiful pure tone. Afterwards a little clavichord was brought in. I preluded, and played a sonata, and the Fischer variations. Then some one whispered to the Dean that he should hear me play organ fashion. I said he might give me a theme, but he would not, so one of the monks did. I led off with it, and in the middle (the fugue was in G minor) I began in the major, in a playful style but in the same time, and then came back to the theme. At last it occurred to me that I might use the playful style for the theme of the fugue. Without more ado I tried it, and it went as accurately as if it had been measured for by Daser (the Salzburg tailor). The Dean was quite beside himself. "I could never have believed it," said he; "you are a wonderful man. My Abbot told me that he had never in his life heard such correct and solemn organ-playing." The Abbot had heard me two or three days before, when the Dean was not there. Finally, some one brought a sonata which was fugued, for me to play. But I said, "Gentlemen, this is too much; I must acknowledge that I cannot play this sonata at once." "I think so, too," said the Dean, eagerly, for he was quite on my side; "that is too much; it would be impossible for any one." "Still," said I, "I will try it." And all the time I played I heard the Dean calling out behind me, "Oh, you rascal! oh, you young scamp!" I played until eleven o'clock. They bombarded me with themes for fugues, and laid siege to me on all sides.
In return for his kind reception and the pleasure expressed in his playing, Wolfgang presented the Abbot Barth. Christa (1760-1780) with several compositions, the Masses in F (192 K.), in C (220 K.), and the "Misericordias Domini" (222 K.). He refers to them in writing to his father, as well as to a litany, "De venerabili" (November 20, 1777). What has become of this last we do not know.[ 12 ]
