Suppose one had been able to go to that concert in May, 1765. It would have been a charming sight. I am sure there was a great deal of jostling about of Sedan-chairs and footmen; and in the spring twilight—they gave concerts earlier then than now—the gorgeously dressed ladies and gentlemen must have looked very much like a picture. Let us follow them into the "rooms."
We find ourselves in a large well-lighted hall, with chairs and benches, and a big platform containing some instruments and a good harpsichord. Then out comes old Papa Mozart, a dignified gentleman from Salzburg, leading a child by each hand, one a charmingly pretty little girl in the quaint dress we are reviving to-day; the other, a boy of eight, of the most striking grace and beauty, and dressed like a little court gentleman, that is, with knee-breeches, silken hose, shoe-buckles, a little satin coat with lace ruffles, and a little sword at his side.
The little boy makes his bow to the enthusiastic audience; he sits down to the piano, and forthwith begins one of his own sweet, child-like, yet harmonious compositions. Then Nannerl plays. Presently the two young prodigies vanish, the fine audience move away, the lights are out, and the boy's London fame has begun. As we go through dingy Golden Square to-day, a hundred and fifteen years later, we think of all the music he left for us to hear and feel and play between that night when he played "his own little compositions," and the day of his early death, in 1791, at the age of thirty-five years.
WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born at Salzburg in 1756. His father had possessed musical talent, but in him it was genius. At three years of age he learned to play; before he was five he had composed a great many little melodies, which his father wrote down for him. I remember seeing in the studio of an English artist in London,[3] himself the son of a great musician, a picture representing the baby Mozart, a charming little figure, leading a visionary choir of angels. It seemed to me the very embodiment of what Mozart must have been as a child—beautiful, fascinating, angelic, and a musician to his very soul.
His sister Anna, or "Nannerl," as she was called, also played marvellously, and when the children were very young their father started with them on a concert tour, during which they played in London. Everywhere they went they were fêted and caressed in a way which would have spoiled even Mozart's sweet, sunny nature, but for his father's watchful care.
Innumerable presents were made them, some of rich jewelry. This their father insisted upon keeping in a box, only allowing them to take it out on rare occasions and enjoy looking at it for a little while.
It was during that London visit that the father fell ill. They were in lodgings in Chelsea, which was then an open country with blooming gardens and green lanes. The little Mozarts had to keep very quiet during this illness of their father's. The harpsichord was closed, and the children took to running about the pretty suburban place, no doubt enjoying the rest from practicing. But it was during this enforced idleness that Mozart composed his first symphony (Opus 15). He was then in his tenth year. Think of the amount of scientific knowledge as well as the genius the boy must have possessed! Soon after, they gave more concerts, playing among other things duets for four hands on the harpsichord, which was then (in 1765) a great novelty.
During the latter part of the London visit a series of entertainments were given at home, where for two shillings and sixpence people could come and "test the youthful prodigies at the harpsichord." They were lodging in a quaint old inn down in the part of London known as Cornhill, and there they delighted hundreds of admiring and curious visitors.