The World's Great Men of Music. Harriette Brower
and lovable, it was hard to scold him.
And this was the Father's birthday, about the most important of all the family celebrations. Already the roast on the spit was nearing perfection, while in the oven a fine cake was browning.
When all was ready and Leopold Mozart had received the good wishes of the little household, baby Wolfgang was mounted on a footstool to recite a poem, in honor of the occasion. When he had finished it he stood quietly a moment then reaching out his tiny arms, clasped them tightly about his father's neck, and said:
"Dear papa, I love you very, very much; after God, next comes my papa."
Leopold Mozart was a musician and held the post of Vice-Capellmeister. Music was honored in this simple home, and when two of the Court musicians, friends of Father Mozart, came in to join the festivities on this birthday night, a toast was drunk to the honor of Musica, the divine goddess of tones.
"I wonder if even a little of my own musical knowledge and love for the art will overflow upon the two dear children," remarked Father Mozart, gazing down tenderly on the little ones.
"Why not," answered the mother; "you long ago promised to begin lessons with Nannerl; can she not start this very night?"
"Yes, indeed, Papachen, may I not learn to play the piano? I promise to work very hard."
"Very well," answered the father; "you shall see I am grateful for all the love you have showed me tonight, and I will begin to teach Nannerl at once."
"I want to learn music too," broke in little Wolfgang, looking at his father with beaming eyes.
Every one laughed at this, while the father said baby Wolfgang would have to grow some inches before he could reach the keys.
The lesson began, and the little girl showed both quickness and patience to grasp the ideas. No one at first noticed the tiny child who planted himself at his sister's elbow, the light of the candles falling on his delicate, sensitive features and bright brown hair. His glance never left Nannerl's fingers as they felt hesitatingly among the white and black keys, while his ear easily understood the intervals she tried to play.
When the little girl left the piano, or the harpsichord, as it was called in those days, Wolfgang slipped into her place and began to repeat with his tiny fingers what his father had taught her. He sought the different intervals, and when at last he found them, his little face beamed with joy. In a short time he was able to play all the simple exercises that had been given his sister.
The parents listened to their wonder-child with ever increasing astonishment, mingled with tears of emotion. It was plain to be seen that Wolfgang must have lessons as well as Nannerl. And what joy it would be to teach them both.
It was a happy household that retired that night. Nannerl was happy because she at last had the chance to take piano lessons. Wolfgang, little "Starbeam," dreamed of the wonderful Goddess of Music, who carried him away to fairyland which was filled with beautiful music. The parents were filled with joy that heaven had granted them such blessings in their children.
The musical progress of the children was quite remarkable. Marianne, which was Nannerl's real name, soon began to play very well indeed, while little Wolfgang hardly had to be told anything in music, for he seemed to know it already. The father would write Minuets for the little girl to study; her tiny brother would learn them in half an hour. Soon Wolfgang was able to compose his own Minuets. Several have come down to us which he wrote when he was five years old; and they are quite perfect in form and style.
One day Father Mozart brought home Schachtner, the Court trumpeter, to dinner. Coming suddenly into the living-room, they found the tiny elf busily writing at his father's desk.
"Whatever are you doing, Wolferl?" cried his father, gazing at the ink stained fingers of his little son and then at the paper covered with blots.
"Oh, Papa, a piano sonata, but it isn't finished yet."
"Never mind that," said Leopold Mozart, "let us see it, it must be something very fine." Taking up the paper the father and his friend looked at it curiously. The sheets were bedaubed with ink stains that almost concealed the notes. For the child had thrust his pen each time to the bottom of the ink well, so that frequent blots on the paper were the result. These did not trouble him in the least, for he merely rubbed his hand over the offending blot and proceeded with his writing.
At first the two friends laughed heartily to see how the little composer had written the notes over smudges, but soon the father's eyes filled with happy tears.
"Look, my dear Schachtner!" he cried. "See how correct and orderly it all is, all written according to rule. Only one could never play it for it seems to be too difficult."
"But it's a sonata, Papa, and one must practice it first, of course, but this is the way it should go."
He sprang to the piano and began to play. The small fingers could not master the more intricate parts, but gave sufficient idea of how he intended the piece to sound.
They stood in speechless astonishment at this proof of the child's powers; then Leopold Mozart caught up the little composer and kissing him cried, "My Wolfgang, you will become a great musician."
Wolfgang, not content with merely learning the piano, begged to study the violin also. His violin lessons had hardly begun when one evening his father and two friends were about to play a set of six trios, composed by Wentzl, one of the players. Wolfgang begged to be allowed to play the second violin. Needless to say his request was refused. At last he was told he might sit next to Schachtner and make believe play, though he must make no sound.
The playing began, when before long it was seen the boy was actually playing the second violin part and doing it correctly. The second violin ceased bowing in amazement and allowed Wolfgang to go on alone. After this he was permitted to play all the second violin part of the whole six pieces. Emboldened by this success, he volunteered to attempt the first violin part, an offer which was greeted with laughter; but nothing daunted, he took up his violin and began. There were mistakes here and there, of course, but he persisted to the end, to the astonishment of all.
Three years had passed swiftly by since little Wolfgang Mozart began to study music the night of his father's fortieth birthday. He had made marvelous progress and already the fame of his powers had passed beyond the narrow limits of his native town. Leopold Mozart had no means other than the salary which he received from the Court. His children's musical gifts induced the father to turn them to advantage, both to supply the family needs and to provide the children a broad education in music. He determined to travel with the children. A first experiment in January, 1762, had proved so successful that the following September they set out for Vienna. Wolfgang was now six years old and Marianne eleven.
At Linz they gave a successful concert and every one was delighted with the playing of the children. From here they continued their journey as far as the monastery of Ips, where they expected to stay for the night. It had been a wonderful day, spent in sailing down the majestic Danube, till they reached the grey old building with its battlemented walls. Soon after they arrived, Father Mozart took Wolfgang into the chapel to see the organ.
The child gazed with awe at the great pipes, the keyboard and the pedals. He begged his father to explain their working, and then as the father filled the great bellows the tiny organist pushed aside the organ bench, stood upon the pedals and trod them, as though he had always known how. The monks in the monastery hastened to the chapel, holding their breath as one pointed to the figure of a tiny child in the organ loft. Was it possible, they asked themselves, that a child could produce such beautiful music? They remained rooted to the spot, till Wolfgang happened to see them and crept meekly down from his perch.
All the rest of the journey to Vienna, Wolfgang was the life of the party, eager to know the name and history of everything they met. At the custom-house on the frontier, he made friends with the officials by playing for them on his violin, and thus secured an easy pass for the party.
Arrived at Vienna, Leopold Mozart found the fame of the children's playing had preceded them. A