Mozart; a biographical romance

Front matter

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Author's Preface

" Low at his feet with loviag heart I bow, And bring these leaves to crown the Master's brew.''

TiiEBE words of the great Goethe express the feeling ,which was the principal occasion of this book. It arose out of reverence, out of sincerest enthusiasm for Mozart, that beautiful soul, that exalted master of the Tone-art.

Not that worthy memorials of this noble spirit have not already been given a place in German literature. We have had, not long since, " The Life of Mozart," bj Alexander OuHbicheff, and the excellent work of the same title by the Herr Professor, Dr. Jahn. Tet good as these works are, and especially the latter one, they have evidently a wholly different purpose from the present book. Both are, in a literal sense, " musical works," devoted to an analysis of Mozart's creations. They appeal only to those readers who are themselves musicians; their purpose lies, therefore, purely in the sphere of art and science.

The object of the present book is different. Its unpretending aim is, by means of the familiar and confidential style of a romance, to bring closer to the heart

4 AUTHORS PBEFAOB.

of the German people one of its noblest sons ; and so to newly awaken a love, veneration, and enthusiasm for Mozart and for his creations. In behalf of those who may desire to go deeper into musical analysis, reference is continually made to the works of OuUbicheflf and Jahn.

At the same time, the higher task of the historical romance has never been lost sight of ; and pains have been taken to unroll before the reader's eyes a true picture of the history and social circumstances of the epoch which it represents.

Such is the object of this book, and the task it has set before it. Perhaps it will a Httle touch the conscience of the German people, which so gladly raises monuments to its heroes, when once it has allowed them to perish.

And so may right many turn over these leaves and

listen with loving pleasure to what they shall tell them,

for,

" On heights of olden stoiy Fair beckoning spirits stand, Who hint the golden glory Hidden in wonder-land."

And this wonder-land is the kingdom of the Tone-world, and Mozart wore its crown.

Hebibebt Sau.

TRANSLATOR'S NOTICE.

SoMB liberties, mainly of omission, have beet taken with the German origiilal of this book. It was thought that some portions of the work, -which would have swelled the volume to an undesirable size, were of exclusively foreign interest, and would not increase its value for American readers. A few changes were made from other consider ationa k. b. s.

Contents

PAET L

THE WONDERFUL CHILD.

Chapter I.— A BirtMay— Dec. 14, 1759 " II.— Prophetic Ink-blots

" III.— The little Virtuoso

" IV.— The Court of Vienna

" V. — A SurpiTse

" VI. — An Evening at the Court of Veraailles.

PAUT n.

MOZART'S YOUTH-IN ITALY.

Chapter I. — Evening Twilight and Morning Red.

II. — II Cavaliers Filaimonico

III.— Kissing St Peter

IV. — The Miserere

v.— Giuditta

VI. — Sti-ategy against Strategy

VII.— The Magic Ring

VIII. — Signora Bemasconi

IX. — Life and Death

X. — A Battle at Milan ii CONTENTS

PAET IIL

ILLUSIONS.

Chapter I. — ^At Court $S

"■ II.— Two Sisters 101

III.— Christmas Gifts Ill

" rV. — A new Enemy and a new Friend 130

" v.— Discords 127

" VI. — ^Disenchantment 134

" VII. — Disappointment 138

" VIII. — And again Disenchantment 143

" EX.— The Future's beautiful Star 147

PAET TV.

KING AND SLAVE.

Chapter I. — Idomeneus 158

II.— The King of Tones 159

IIL— Life in Vienna 167

IV. — Kaiser Joseph the Second 184

v.— Joseph Haydn 195

VL— The Last Night 204

•' Vn.— Two Elopements 209

PART Y.

N O O ND AY.

Cecapteb I. — Shadows and Light 217

" II.— The Mysterious Flowers 220

IIL— Sorcery 226

" IV.— The Three Lions 231

" V. — ^Passion and Love 240

" VI.— The Grand Kehearsal 248

" VII.— The Unwiitten Overtuie 255

" VIIL— Don Giovanni 263

CONTENTB. %

PAET YI.

EVENING AND NIGHT.

Chaptbk I.— Twilight 273

" II.— The Presentiment 280

III.— The Violet 284

IV. — The Unknown Messenger 291

v.— The Magic Flute 298

" VI.— " And the Day is far Spent" 308

" VII.— The Requiem 313

" Vm.— The Angel of Death 818

A BIOGEAPHICAL EOMANCE.

Part I. The Wokderpul Child

CHAPTER I.

A BIETHDAT DECEMBEE 14, 1759.'

"TTTHAT a sight you are, Wolferl!" cried I'rau Vice-

W Capellmeister Mozart to her little three-years-old son, as with motherly care she brushed the dust from his clothes, and set to rights the rumpled kerchief which let the child's open breast be seen. " How in the world did all this sand get in your hair ? Tour sister had brushed it so nicely, and to-day IS father's birthday !"

" Yes, Mamma, T and Andreas have been turning summersaults !" said Wolfgang earnestly, and looked up with such a frank and winning smile in his beaming blue eyes, that the light folds gathering on the high brow of Frau Mozart quickly disappeared.

" Summersaults !" answered the mother, hardly repressing a smile, as she gave the little rogue a gentle tap on his cheek ; " people can't turn summersaults with their Sunday clothes on. Don't you know that these cost the father a great deal of money, and that the money cost him so much hard work ?"

" Yes, Mamma," cried the boy ; and his great eyes grew moist as his tender heart took in the thought that he had troubled his dear father and mother. " But 'twas only my head got into the dirt ; the legs were all the time in the air !"

1 Leopold Mozart was bom December 14, 1719. His sec, Wolfgang Amadeqa. tbt ft maaician, was bom at Sal^nrg, January 37, 1756.

b MOZART:

" And that's the reason your hair is full of sand, and youi clothes all dust from top to bottom."

" Please, then, get the sand out of my hair, and it shan't get in again. And" — he added coaxingly, as he leaned his brown head against the full, but still beautiful form of his mother — "you won't be angry with me, will you, Mamachen ?" '

" No, indeed, dear child, when you are good," answered Frau Mozart, as she pressed a kiss on the childish lips. Then Wolfgang ran out, and called to his little friend Andreas Schachtner,' who had remained in the outer room.

" What shall we do next ?" he asked ; " for we can't turn any more summersaults."

"Then," replied Andreas, "let us play school."

"Good!" Wolfgang responded; "but let us go into the otlier room. It's warmer there. I'm schoolmaster, and you shall go to school to me. You take the little bench, and I'll take the table and the piece of chalL"

Andreas obeyed. But when he was starting to go into the other room, Wolfgang seized him fast by the arm, and cried :

" That's not the way ! Put yourself behind me ! So — and now we must march first all around the room, while I sing' the music."

Then the little fellow, with sparkling eyes, sang, in his childish tones, a march that he had learned, while the four little shoes stamped on the floor in time to the tune, tiU the dust flew about the room in clouds.'

Now it happened that his mother was at this moment busy in the kitchen, where Nannerl, his seven-years-old sister, was helping her ; for this was the father's birthday, and an exception must be made in their usually strict and economical housekeeping. Already the roast upon the spit was filling the house with its savory fragrance, and a notable loaf of cake was in the oven, browning its rich crust -into perfection.

While these luxurious preparations were going on, the two youngsters had established themselves in the warm room. Andreas sat on the floor, with a footstool placed over his outstretched legs, on which his slate lay. But Wolfgang, in the capacity of schoolmaster, had applied the chalk to floor,

> The teimlnatiouB chen^ erl, etc., are diminatiTe. The Qermane use the diminn fcive as a sort of vocal caress. ^ Afterward a good muBlcian, and a poet. ■ Historical.— Kissen, p. 17. Jahn, Fart I., p. 29.

A BIOQBAPHICAL MOMAJSVS 9

trails, and furniture, covering them with -whit** siiribblings, apparently the alphabet of some unknown tongwe which the elf had learned from the fairies. In his zeal he was just on the point of using the old leather-covered sofa as a basis for his mystic hieroglyphics, when his sister, with the. dinnerthings on her arm, entered the room. But knives, and forks, andUnen were like to have fallen from her hands at her first glance. She stood a second as if dumbfounded, and then cried —

" What in the world have you been about, Wolfgang-?"'

Her brother looked at her m surprise, and asked in perfect innocence —

"Why, what is it, Nannerl?"

"The chalk, child!"

" I'm the schoolmaster," answered the urchin, with comical dignity; "and so I must set copies, and cipher."

" But not on the floor and the walls !" cried his sister in dismay. "Mamma and I sat up half the night to make everything neat and beautifiil, and now — "

" Then I'll wipe it all out," said Wolfgang ; but his sister threw the whole table furniture in a heap on the sofa, and sprang forward, for the little schoolmaster was just about to wipe off the chairs with the elbow of his Sunday jacket Fortunately Nannerl anticipated the motion, and shoved him aside, while with her apron and a sponge she destroyed thr works of the small philosopher.

Meanwhile Wolfgang, who now for the first time begsn U reflect on what he had done, stood ashamed, and looked a» his sister in silence. It was an additional grief to him thai he had troubled Nannerl, and put her to double labor.

When at last she had finished with her cleansing operations he went softly up to her, pulled at her dress, and asked, at he was wont to do at least twenty times in the day —

" Nannerl, do you love me ?"

But his sister was really angry, and said :

"No, when you do such naughty things, I don't love you !"

This was too much for the tender little heart. Turning around quickly, that the tears which swam in his eyes might not be seen, he sat down in a corner of the room, and looked in mournful silence straight before him. At that moment the roof of clouds, which till then had darkened the wintry sky, was rent asunder. A sunbeam fell into the little room, and

TO MOZAHT:

as it struck the cage of a golden-winged canary hanging before the window, the bird turned his little head up in delight, hopped a few times from one perch to the other, and then began to warble and trill a song that was bright and joyous as the blue sky.

But what is this? Why brightens up little Wolfgang's face at once so wondrously? His eyes are beaming, and his cheeks grow ruddy; a rapt and passionate expression, far beyond his years, gives to the childish face a strange — one might almost say, an unearthly — ^look.

Wolfgang — the little three-years-old Wolfgang — ^is now all ear. He listens to the ringing trills of his feathered darling, and forgotten is his small trouble, forgotten are, sister and playmate ; to him the world contains but one existence, and that a song.

It is a child, who is listening here to those sweet tones ; but the soul of this child is so wondrously organized, that music touches every fibre of nerve and brain with thrills of ecstasy, till his soul itself seems to throb on in musical pulsation, — the shadowy, vanishing presage of an immortal harmony, which one day will ring throughout the world.

Little Wolfgang understands not what music is ; only, wherever and however it strikes his ear, he is thrilled as by electric waves. He must sing himself a march, as he bears his playthings to another room ; he is ravished with delight, if his canary answers a sudden sunbeam with a song.

The bird had long since ceased his singing ; the little playmate, Andreas, had slipped away home ; but Wolfgang still sits motionless in his corner, seeing and hearing nothing about him; waking-dreams are passing across his mind. Fancies like fairy-tales set to music are weaving within him ; like the stories which the mother tells him, before bed-time, in the twilight. He dreams that he is a king ; and imagination builds him strange inhabitants for his realm — grotesque creatures, cities and castles by mountain lakes, to which he gives fantastic names. On his head a crown sits, and from it shines a splendid light, far out into the distance of the world.

Long dreams the boy in this manner, — and long would he have gone on dreaming, had not a kiss startled him awake. He looks up in astonishment. It is his sister, bending down her dear affectionate face above him. Swiftly his little arms clasp tight about her neck, and his first question is, "Do you love me, Nannerl ?"

A BIOGRAPHIOAL BOMANOB. \\

''Indeed I do!" she answers heartily, as th(iy hold each other fast in their arms.

It was a pretty group ; but the little restless creature, so sensitively organized to catch every impression from without, had already noticed something else besides his sister's caress. It was comical to see the small head lift itself suddenly up from her embrace, and the wide-open nostrils testify that Wolfgang had discovered, through the sense of smell, the gastronomic preparations of his mother. His face beamed, and not with more triumphant joy did the sea-worn mariners of Columbus raise the cry of " Land-ho !" than the little Mozart now cried out, " There's the dinner !"

"Yes,", said his sister, "and a birthday dinner, too; for you know to-day Papa is forty years old." Then the two went racing into the other room, where an appetizing repast was smoking on the table, and the father and mother already awaited them.

The Vice-Capellmeister was a fine-looking man, not of great size, but well proportioned. His dress was exceedingly plain — one might almost call it poor ; yet was there a stateliness in his presence, which was increased by the noble earnestness of his fine face, with its small, delicately cut mouth, thoughtful eyes, and the high full brow, which at once betrayed the musician. The genuine stamp of a true man was not to be mistaken in him. His wife, too, bore the traces of great beauty, and prided herself a good deal, still, on the fact that they had been formerly reputed to be the handsomest pair ever married in Salzburg. It is true that sorrows, many and severe, had ploughed furrows in both their faces, but love at least, founded as it was on mutual respect, had in no wise yielded to their assaults. On the contrary, it had been doubly tempered and strengthened in the fire of fate, growing ever more and more heartfelt through the many anxious seasons which they had battled through together.

Therefore, in the festivities of this birthday, quietly and simply as it was celebrated, there was no pretence. They sprang out of the heart, and they went to the heart as well. Herr Leopold Mozart was wont to say that these little family-feasts were as necessary to the household life as the Sundays and holidays are to the public life, giving it color, light, and warmth.

With evident emotion, therefore, the usually cold and practica. man received the good wishes of his household.

Before the dinner Wolfgang was mounted on a footstool, where he recited a little poem in honor of his father. The strange oldness in the child's face, and his mature appreciation of what he was saying, might have moved his parents' hearts with a painful anxiety, had it not been accompanied by the boy's childlike and roguish utterance.

When the poem had been recited, he stood there on the stool, reached his little arms around his father's neck, and said slowly, " Papaohen, I love you so very, very much ! And do you know ? after God, next comes my Papa !" '

The father embraced him, but could answer nothing, except, " Keep both in your heart, and all will go well with you !"

At this moment two of the Court-musicians, Adlgasser and Lipp, both good friends of Father Mozart, entered the room. They had been bidden to dinner, and since it was not an ordinary thing for the Mozart family to entertain guests, their pi-esence was so much the greater addition to the common cheerfulness. They jested, and told stories, and talked of this thing and that, and at last came upon the subject of their common poverty. It was probably no laughing matter for any one of them, but they treated it so, and discussed the slender incomes which music yielded them, as though it were the most comical of all occurrences.

" Yes," said Adlgasser, " we all have to pinch ; but Father Mozart has at least the comfort of having done something extraordinary, nevertheless."

"Something extraordinary ?" returned the Capellmeister. " I'm sure I didn't know of it."

" Oh, oh, how modest !" cried the other. " Isn't it anything, then, to gain fame and honor ?"

" And how have I deserved that ?" asked Leopold Mozart, brimming his friend's glass with red wine. " Do you mean the violin lessons ?"

" No !" replied Adlgasser. " Those have brought you honor, indeed ; but it is the ' School for the Violin,' I meant, which has attracted so much notice." '

" And has already been translated into French and Dutch," added Lipp.

" Well," returned Mozart, rubbing his hands and looking pleased, " I confess the result of that undertaking has given

• The childlB own words.— Nlsaen and Jabn.

* Historical.— Jahn and Marpnrg.

A SIOQBAPHICAL ROMANCE. 13

me a great deal of pleasure. I give thanks to my Maker every day right heartily that He has given me so much taste for music. And as for my violin, that stands first with me, after wife and children. The soul of music, the celestial comforter, speaks itself best and purest from the tone of a solo instrument ; for this tone, disdaining all admixture with alien sounds, is the serenest expression of the spirit. Tes, my friends I when I am happy, then it is the violin that best rings out my joy : if I would pray from my innermost heart, it is in the bell-tones of the violin that the prayer must be expressed ; if sadness weighs me down to the earth, it is the violin that weeps with me, or comforts me like an angel sent from God. Is not music, indeed, the mystical language of God, moving the heart of every mortal, who will but receive its message, with wondrous might? Is it not the chosen language, in which the eternal Divine Spirit yearns out of nature toward us all— when the spring-time rejoices, or the storm howls, when the lark trills his song, or the raging ocean thunders out its sublime harmonies ?"

" Tes, yes," cried Adlgasser with flashing eyes ; " there lies a wondrous magic in it. Orpheus' lyre opened the gates of the nether world : — what a deep significance lurks in that charming Grecian story I"

" There lies hidden in it," said Lipp, " this exalted and blessed truth — that music opens to men an undiscovered realm, a world which has nothing in common with the outer world of sense. "

" Yea !" cried Adlgasser, " a world of noblest desire, of holiest love, of purest pain, of divinest passion."

" Let us, then, empty one glass to the honor oi Musica, the ravishing goddess !" broke in Father Mozart. " Happy is he to whom God has given a taste and susceptibility for her charms. Though he be a poor devil, as we all are, je\, there are hours in which, through the grace of this divine one, he dreams himself a Croesus and a king. So, vivat Musica /" and the glasses clinked, and a joyous " Vivat /" rang out, in which little Wolfgang joined with the rest, although he did not comprehend what the conversation had been about, and the good things of the dinner had claimed his undivided attention. But the gaze of his father rested with contentment and tenderness on him and his sister.

" Tou two," he said, almost sadly, " are all that th i Lord has left me of seven. I wonder whether any little drop nf musical taste will overflow upon yon, from my own life ?"

" Wherefore not ?" responded the mother. " Nannerl has a great fancy for it already. Let it be tested at once. You long ago promised to commence piano-lessons with her."

"Ah yes, Papachen," begged the child; "let me at last learn to play. I am seven years old now, and I promise to try very hard."

" Good, then !" said the father. " Tou shall all see that I am grateful for the love you have brought me to-day, for I vdll commsnce Nannerl's lessons this very night."

"And me, too?" cried Wolfgang. "Mayn't I learn music too ?"

They all laughed, and the father said : " You, little man, must grow some inches before you wiU be able to reach the keys. ■ But would you really become a musician ?"

" Yes !" cried the little one, " and I can play some now !"

" Indeed you can," said the mother — " summersaults with Andreas !"

" No," cried Wolfgang, with heat, for his sensitive pride was touched, " I played a march for him this morning !"

A great laugh followed this childish declaration, as the company rose from the table, and separated — ^the musicians to go into the city till evening, Nannerl and her mother to pursue their household avocations, while the little Mozart betook himself to his favorite high seat by the window, and watched the clouds with his great sad eyes, till the clattering dishes set the canary to singing its song, which wound him in a woof of childish dreams.

It was a dark December day, and night already had closed about the earth when the Mozart family gathered at the tea-table. The wind made its weird music without, but a warm fire burned in the grate, around which the chairs were drawn after tea, and they sat in contented silence in the glow of the fire, and listened to the wind in the chimney, fluttering as if invisible wings were descending it, and then roaring and rumbling like the bass-notes of a huge-throated organ-pipe. Nannerl gazed into the red coals, and built crumbling castles there, splendid as transitory, and seemed to see her future in the shitting tracery of the flame. The old people watched instead the flitting shadows cast upon the walls, and in those fading and glimmering cartoons they saw only pictures of the past. But little Wolfgang's quiet blue eyes took in the

A BIOaRAPHICAL ROMANCE. 16

whole scene — the shine and the shadows, the old hearts and the young — and melted it all in love unto a soft, unspoken, unspeakable nmsic, deep down in his childish soul.

When the candles were brought in, Father Mozart, true to his promise, opened the piano and called Nannerl to take her first lesson.

The little girl showed, from the beginning, a patient determination, and a brightness of apprehension, which promised well for her progress. Wolfgang planted himself, with his hands behind his back, close at the side of his sister, still as a statue, watching every motion of her fingers. He was a charming sight, as he stood there, with the light of the candles from the piano falling on his brown hair and beautiful elfin figure. The open breast, only half concealed by the white folds of the kerchief, the tender face, with its delicate features, lighting up more and more as the lesson went on, formed a lovely little figure, oh which the mother's eyes hung in still ravishment.

In this way an hour passed by, in which the boy, usually so restless and bent on childish play, had not moved for an instant from his place. New ideas were crowding upon the sensitive brain. Many a time had he heard his father bring finest music from those glistening keys, without its calling his attention from his sport ; but now those first gropings of his sister among them fastened him with magical power. The father's skilfiil playing had lain too far beyond the boy's comprehension ; the intricate harmonies had gone sweeping high over his head. But now for the first time the thought flashed through him, " Thou, too, canst do this !"

His eyes, therefore, never left Nannerl's fingers, as they crept hesitatingly among the white and the black keys, his ear easily grasping the simple relations of the different tones ; and when his father had finished the lesson, and Nannerl left the piano, he slipped softly into her place, and began with his little hands to seek out thirds.' When he found the notes whii'.h harmonized, how his face beamed with rapture ! Little did he know what significance of prophecy lay in those first touches upon the " cold keys ;" it was the first tread of the royal child over the boundary to take possession of his k'nglom.

Father Mozart had lit his pipe and taken up the news

' Historical.— Onllblclie«F, Part I., p. 7; NisBen, p. IS paper, and at first gave no heed to these earliest expenmenta of iiis little son. By and by his wife plucked him by the sleeve,, and pointed at Wolfgang: slowly he let the newspaper sink at his side, and then the pipe also. More and more joyful grew his look, greater and greater was the astonishment gathering in his face ; but he could scarcely trust his ears and eyes when Wolfgang, the little three-yearsold creature, repeated faultlessly with his bits of fingers the simple exercise which had been given to his sister. The newspaper now lay on the floor ; the pipe had gone out ; the tall smoking-oap, which his left hand had unconsciously pushed back from his forehead in his amazement, hung now on the back of his venerable head, while his eyes were brimmed full of happy tears. At last he found motion and speech. Hastening to the piano, he caught up his little son stormUy, and, with an expression of indescribable delight, cried out —

"Wolferl! little Star-beam! Yes, you too will be a musician !"

Father and mother both kissed the wondering chUd, and, wiping the tears from hie eyes, Father Mozart said, slowly and solemnly, looking upward, " Lord, I thank Thee for this gift ! I think that Thy goodness has granted to me a wondrous blossom, and in gratitude I would devote my whole life and being to Thy service, forever !"

Then he took the child, and, as he was wont to do every evening before he went to rest, placed him on a footstool before him, folded his small hands together, and repeated before him his simple evening prayer. But this time the father's voice trembled, as with the deepest feeling he said these words :

"Dear Heavenly Father, I thank Thee for Thy goodness — "

And the little Wolfgang repeated after him with his child ish voice :

" Dear Heavenly Father, I thank thee for Thy goodness:"

" Thou hast bestowed upon me a precious gift" —

" Thou hast bestowed upon me a precious gift:"

" Grant me Thy blessing, that I may use it aright" —

" Grant me Thy blessing, that I may use it aright:"

" For Thy glory, and for my best good" —

" For Thy glory, and for my best good :"

"Amenr

"Amenl"

A BIOGBAPEIOAL B.OMAMCE. 17

But the last words were repeated slowly and wearily, foi sleep began to claim its rights over the boy, and the mother had scarcely made the little form ready for bed, when he was fast asleep.

And now fluttered a flock of white-winged dreams about his soul, hovering nearer and nearer, till — he seemed to be standing in a summer meadow. Thousands of blossoms clustered about his feet, and nestled by the side of mossy stones, and printed their starry shadows on other and smallei blossoms; the sky was swept pure by the round white clouds, and out of its blue depths the sun streamed warm and clear. How the child's heart leaped to hear the singing of the birds, and the humming of the bees ! And now he sprang forward to pluck a pearl-white lUy, — ^but lo ! as soon as he touched the flower, it began to breathe forth beautiful tones; another and another he touched, and always they began to sing the loveliest melodies, that mingled with each other in rare sweet music, which swelled and swelled, deepei; and louder, and the flowers grew with it in his hands, higher and higher, till the sound was the tumbling billows of the sea, and the blossoms had become stars. There in the sky they were burning and flashing, — ^but now the heavens were no longer blue and bright, but shadowy sombre. Then the child wept for grief; but as the tears rolled down his cheeks, the beautiful tones swept over him again, and the stars had become mightiest harmonies, whose rushing majesty bore him away with it, up and up, till there was no longer any earth, nor anything but the still rapture of his own infantile, fathomless souL