He exacts above all a "straightforward, manly tone"; "nothing can be more absurd than to seem afraid even to grasp the violin firmly; or just to touch the strings with the bow (held perhaps with two fingers), and to attempt such an artistic up-bow to the very nut of the violin that only a note here and there is heard in a whisper, without any idea what it means, it is all so like a dream" (p. 101). CHILDHOOD. Simple, natural expression is the highest aim of the violinist, so that the instrument may imitate as far as possible the art of song (p. 50); "who does not grant that to sing their music has been the aim of all instrumentalists, because they have ever striven after nature?" (p. 107.)[19] He is severe on performers who "tremble upon every long note, or cannot play a couple of bars simply without introducing their senseless and ridiculous tricks and fancies" (p. 50). They are blamed the more as they are for the most part wanting in the necessary knowledge where to bring in their ornamentation without involving errors in the composition (pp. 209, 195). Other faults of the virtuoso are equally severely dealt with, such as the tremolo of the player "who shakes away on every note as if he had the ague" (p. 238), or the constant introduction of the so-called "flageolet tones" (p. 107), or the alternate hurrying and dragging of the "virtuoso of imagination." "Many," says he (p. 262), "who have no conception of taste, disdain to keep uniform time in the accompaniment of a concerted part, and strive to follow the principal part. That is accompanying like a bungler, not like an artist. It is true that in accompanying some Italian singers, who learn everything by heart and never adhere to time or measure, one has often to pass over whole bars to save them from open shame. But in accompanying a true artist, worthy of the name, not a note must be delayed or anticipated, there must be neither hurry nor dragging, so that every note may have proper expression, otherwise the accompaniment would destroy the effect of the composition. A clever accompanist should also be able to judge of the performer. He must not spoil the tempo rubato of an experienced artist by waiting to follow him. It is not easy to describe this 'stolen time.' A 'virtuoso of imagination' often gives to a semiquaver in an adagio cantabile the time of half a bar, before recovering L. MOZART'S VIOLIN METHOD. from his paroxysm of feeling; and he cares nothing at all for the time: he plays in recitative."
Technical instruction and skill are to him only the means to a higher end. The performer must be capable of expressing all the pathos of the piece before him, so as to penetrate to the souls and stir the passions of the audience (pp. 52, 253).[20] As the most important requisite to the violinist for attaining this, he indicates the stroke of the bow (p. 122) as "the medium by the judicious use of which we are able to communicate the pathos of the music to the audience." "I consider," he adds "that a composer attains his highest aim when he finds a suitable melody for every sentiment, and knows how to give it its right expression." "Many a second-rate composer," he says (p. 252), "is full of delight, and thinks more than ever of himself when he hears his nonsensical music executed by good artists, by whose artistic expression even such miserable trash is made intelligible to the audience."
It is plain that he was a sworn enemy to smatterers and pretenders. Thorough technical study and an intellect trained to clear and rational thought he considered absolutely indispensable to a true artist. He grants, indeed, that genius may atone for the want of learning, and that a man highly gifted by nature may lack the opportunity of studying his art scientifically. But this does not detract from the main proposition nor make his demands less just.
The extracts given above illustrate the principles and the views with which L. Mozart undertook the musical education of his son, and these being united to a correct appreciation of the freedom and indulgence due to great natural powers, it must be acknowledged that no genius could have been trained under happier auspices!
This work, so remarkable for the age, met with suitable recognition. Marpurg, to whose judgment L. Mozart had CHILDHOOD. submitted it in his preface, speaks of it as follows: [21] "The want of a work of this kind has been long felt, but hitherto in vain. A thorough and skilled performer, a sensible and methodical teacher, a learned musician, a man possessing all those qualities which singly command our respect, are here to be found united in one individual—the author. What Geminiani did for the English nation, Mozart has accomplished for the German, and their works are worthy to live side by side in universal approbation."
After this it is not surprising that the first of the critical letters on music which were published under Marpurg's direction at Berlin in 1759 and 1760 should be addressed to L. Mozart, with the declaration that the society which proposed to address each letter to some person of distinction, could not make a fitter commencement than with him. Schubart says,[22] "He gained great reputation through his 'Method,' which is written in good German, and with admirable judgment. The examples are well chosen, and the system of fingering not in the least pedantic; the author doubtless inclines to the school of Tartini, but he permits greater freedom in the management of the bow." Zelter expresses himself in the same spirit:[23] "His 'Violin Method' is a work which will be of use as long as the violin is an instrument. It is well written, too."
The praise of the author's style of writing is characteristic and well deserved; it was then a far rarer distinction among artists than at present. L. Mozart's style is sharp and clear; his sarcastic turn of mind is so prominent that he apologises for it in the preface, although it is not unusual in the musical literature of the time. Both in this book and in his letters he proves himself a man who has not only acquired cultivation by intercourse with the world and by travel, but who is well acquainted with literature, has read with taste and discernment, and has well-defined and judicious opinions L. MOZART'S POSITION IN SALZBURG. both on aesthetic and moral subjects. He addressed to the poet Gellert a letter so full of veneration that Gellert replied in the warmest terms, as the following extract will show:—
I should be insensible, indeed, if the extraordinary kindness with which you honoured me had left me unmoved, and I should be the most ungrateful of men if I could have received your letter without acknowledgment. I accept your love and friendship, my dear sir, with the same frankness with which they are offered. Do you, indeed, read my works and encourage your friends to do the same? Such approbation, I can truly say, was more than I could have dared to hope from such a quarter. Does my last poem, "Der Christ," meet with your approval? I venture to answer myself in the affirmative. To this I am encouraged by the subject of the poem, your own noble spirit, as unwittingly you display it in your letters, and by my consciousness of honest endeavour.
Baron von Bose presented "the little Orpheus of seven years old," when in Paris, with Gellert's songs, recommending him to borrow their irresistible harmonies, "so that the hardened atheist may read and mark them, may hear them and fall down and worship God." Perhaps this gift gave occasion to the letter. Wolfgang informs his sister at a later date, from Milan, of the death of Gellert, which took place there.
With this amount of cultivation, and the pretensions consequent on it, it is not surprising that Leopold Mozart felt himself isolated at Salzburg. He had his duties to perform at court, and the more contemptible their remuneration was, the more he and the other officials were made to feel their dependent position. He was employed as a teacher in most of the families of rank at Salzburg, for his instruction was justly considered as the best that could be had; but this did not imply any degree of friendly intimacy. He was too proud to ingratiate himself with them by flattery or obsequiousness, although, as a man of the world, he knew how to moderate his satirical humour, and was always affable and well-bred. He seems to have had little intercourse with his colleagues. This was partly owing to circumstances, but partly also to their want of musical proficiency or mental cultivation, joined to their looser, less earnest mode of life. CHILDHOOD. The social relations of the Mozart family were, however, cheerful and unconstrained; their intercourse with their friends had more of innocent merriment than of intellectual enjoyment. "The Salzburg mind," says Schubart,[24] "is tuned to low comedy. Their popular songs are so drolly burlesque that one cannot listen to them without dying of laughter. The clownish spirit[25] shines through them all, though the melodies are often fine and beautiful." This tendency would scarcely please so serious and critical a man as L. Mozart, whose humour was caustic, but not broad, and who appears to have entered with constraint into the ordinary tone of conversation.
