The great hall of the famous musical society of Bologna in Italy was filled with musicians on the afternoon of October 9, 1770. They had gathered to welcome a small boy who had recently come with his father from the town of Salzburg in Austria. The most marvelous stories of his genius as a composer had preceded him, and his travels through Europe had been one long success. Yet it scarcely seemed possible that a boy of fourteen could know so much about music as this one was said to. That was why the learned men of Bologna had gathered together this afternoon. They were going to test Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's skill.

It was about four o'clock when the usher at the door announced Leopold Mozart and his son Wolfgang. The members of the society faced the newcomers. They saw a tall, fine-looking man accompanied by a slim, fair-haired boy with smiling eyes and mouth. The boy was richly dressed, with much gold lace upon his coat and trousers. He was perfectly self-possessed, and when he saw the eyes of all the men in the room fixed upon him he made a low bow. It was gracefully done, and a murmur of welcome rose from the members. So this was the boy of whom all the musicians of Europe were talking.

The skill of the young composer was now to be put to the test. Three men approached the boy, the president of the society and two experienced Kapellmeisters, or choirmasters. In the presence of all the members the boy was given a difficult anthem, which he was invited to set to music in four parts. He was then led by a beadle into an adjoining room, and the door locked. There the boy set to work on his composition.

Just half an hour later the boy knocked on the door in signal that the music was finished. The beadle opened the door, and the boy presented his completed score to the president. The latter examined the score carefully, then handed it to the Kapellmeisters. They in turn examined it, and passed it on to the other members. Each man as he looked at the composition showed his surprise. Finally it had made the circuit of the room. Then a ballot-box was passed, and each member was asked to cast either a white or a black ball, depending on whether he thought the newcomer was worthy to be admitted to the distinguished society of Bologna. Every ball cast was white.

Young Mozart was then recalled to the room. When he entered this time he was greeted with cheers. The president met him, and informed him of his election. Then the members pressed about him, eager to praise his work. He had been set a very difficult type of composition, and had accomplished in half an hour greater results than any other candidate had ever reached in three hours.

The musicians of Bologna decided that the judgments of the European courts as to this boy's genius were correct.

Father and son proceeded on their journey south through Italy. They reached Rome during Holy Week, and learned that the celebrated music of the "Miserere" was being given in the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican. It was very difficult to gain admittance to the Chapel, as the Pope and many of the Cardinals were there. The rich dress of the two visitors, the German they spoke, and the singular air of authority which the boy showed, convinced the Swiss guards at the door that these were people of importance. One soldier whispered to another that this was a young German prince traveling with his tutor. They were allowed to enter, and the boy, accustomed from infancy to the life of courts, immediately walked to the Cardinals' table, and placed himself between the chairs of two of those Princes of the Church.

One of the latter, Cardinal Pallavicini, surprised at the boy's assurance, beckoned to him, and said, "Will you have the goodness to tell me in confidence who you are?"

"Wolfgang Mozart of Salzburg," answered the boy.

"What!" cried the Cardinal. "Are you really that famous boy of whom so many men have written to me?"

Mozart bowed in assent. "And are you not Cardinal Pallavicini?" he asked in turn.

"Yes," said the prelate. "Why do you ask?"

"My father and I have letters to your Eminence," said the boy, "and are anxious to wait upon you with our compliments."

The Cardinal was delighted at the boy's arrival, had a seat placed for him, and talked to him in the intermissions of the service. He complimented him on learning Italian so quickly, saying that he could speak very little German. When the music was over Wolfgang kissed the Cardinal's hand, and the latter, taking his red biretta from his head, invited the boy to make a long stay at the Papal court.

The boy was very much impressed by the music of the "Miserere," and when he left the Chapel asked where he could get a copy of it. To his dismay he was told that the music was considered so wonderful that the Papal musicians were forbidden on pain of excommunication by the Pope to take any part of the score away, or to copy it, or allow any one else to copy it.

Mozart, however, was determined to have a copy of that music, even if he had to pay the penalty of being excommunicated. He soon hit on a plan.

The next morning the boy arrived early at the Sistine Chapel, and devoted all his thought to remembering the music. It was exceedingly difficult, performed as it was by a double choir, and full of singular effects, one of which was the absence of any particular rhythm. The task of putting down such music in notes was tremendous. Yet, when Wolfgang left the Chapel he went straight home to the lodgings his father had taken, and made a sketch of the entire music. He went again on Good Friday morning, and sat with his copy hidden in his hat. In that way he corrected and completed it. When it was finished he told his father of it, and the news soon spread through Rome that this wonderful boy had actually stolen the complete score of the "Miserere" exactly as it was composed by Allegri.

The feat was said to be unheard of, and many considered it impossible. Certain men of importance called to see Wolfgang's father about it, with the result that the boy was obliged to show what he had written at a large musical party held for that special purpose. The musician Christofori, who had sung in the choir in the Chapel, pronounced the copy absolutely correct. Every one was amazed, and then so much delighted at the marvelous skill of this boy of fourteen that the penalty of excommunication was entirely forgotten. Princes, Cardinals, all that part of Rome which loved art and music, had only wondering admiration for the young German musician.

There had never been any doubt among those who had met the boy Mozart that he was a genius. At fourteen years of age he had already been playing the clavier and the violin for a number of years. His father, himself a musician, was attached to the court of the Archbishop of Salzburg, and had written a great deal of music. But when he discovered the amazing genius of his two children, his son and daughter, he devoted himself entirely to training them.

The boy was born January 27, 1756, and was christened John Chrysostom Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, quite a large collection of names. The girl, Maria, was four years older. When Maria was seven years old her father began to give her lessons on the clavier, which was an instrument very much like the piano, and the girl soon won the highest reputation for her playing. When she began to play, her small brother Wolfgang, or Woferl as he was called in nickname, although only three years old, constantly watched her, and whenever he had the chance tried striking the keys himself. At four he had shown the ability to remember solos from concerts he was taken to, and it then first occurred to his father that his son was a genius. Before long Wolfgang was composing pieces which his father wrote down for him.

It was only a year or two later that Leopold Mozart, coming home with a friend one day, found the boy very busy with pen and ink.

"What are you doing there, Woferl?" asked the father.

"Writing a concerto for the clavier," answered the small boy. "The first part is just finished."

His father smiled. "It must be something very fine, I dare say; let us look at it."

"No, no," said Woferl, "it isn't ready yet."

Leopold however picked up the paper, and he and his friend began to laugh as they looked at the rudely scrawled notes. The paper was also covered with blots, for the boy had kept jabbing his pen to the very bottom of his inkstand, and often wiped the clots of ink across the paper. But after a moment's examination Leopold stopped laughing, and both men looked hard at the sheet. There were ideas in music scrawled there which even a grown man found it difficult to understand.

"See," said the father in amazement, "it is written correctly and regularly, though it can't be used because it's so difficult we couldn't find any one who could play it."

The boy looked up quickly. "It's a concerto, father, and must be practiced a long time before it can be played. It ought to go this way." He began to play it as best he could on the clavier, but could give them only the barest outline of it. As a matter of fact the boy had written the music with a full score of accompaniments, ready to be played by a full orchestra.

At six Mozart knew the effect of sounds as shown by notes, and could compose unaided by any instrument.

Leopold Mozart could not keep the story of his children's great talents to himself, and in a very short time news of their remarkable ability had spread through Austria. Invitations poured in upon the father asking him to bring the boy and girl to different courts, and he decided to take them on a concert tour.

The children played at all the chief cities of the empire, and everywhere they were welcomed as infant prodigies. The Emperor and Empress took special delight in them, loaded them with presents, and insisted on having them treated with all the respect given to grown artists. Little Woferl appeared at court in a suit of white and gold, very resplendent with lace, ruffles, and ornaments of all sorts. His small sister, in white brocaded taffeta, was dressed exactly like an archduchess in miniature.

It is a wonder that both children were not hopelessly spoiled by the treatment they received, but fortunately both had much good sense, and they enjoyed their travels without becoming conceited.

Leopold and his children went from Austria to Paris, and then to London. Everywhere their concerts met with the same success. In London the most difficult pieces by Bach and Handel were put before the boy, but he played them at sight, and without the slightest mistake. Bach was at that time music-master to the English Queen, and he took special delight in young Mozart. He would take the boy on his knees, and play a few bars, and then have the boy continue them, and so, each playing in turn, they would perform an entire sonata, as if with a single pair of hands.

The trip to England set a final seal on Woferl's fame. His father wrote home: "My girl is esteemed the first female performer in Europe, though only twelve years old, and ... the high and mighty Wolfgang, though only eight, possesses the acquirements of a man of forty. In short, those only who see and hear can believe; and even you in Salzburg know nothing about him, he is so changed."

After a year or two of travel the family returned home. It was now decided that the boy should try his hand at an opera. Genius, however, is apt to inspire jealousy, and Mozart was now so well known that many of the leading musicians of Germany plotted against him. It was galling to their pride to find that a child knew so much more than they. As a result they planned to avoid hearing the boy if they could, so that when asked they could say they doubted his ability, and thought his great skill most likely sham.

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Mozart and His Sister Before Maria Theresa

The father laid a plan to catch one of these men, a well-known Viennese musician. He learned privately of a place where this man would be present on a certain occasion, and had Woferl go there, and took with him an exceedingly hard concerto which the man had written. During the afternoon this concerto was placed before the boy, and he played it perfectly. The musician could not help but show his delight at hearing his own music so wonderfully given. He had to speak the truth. Turning to the people present he said, "I can say no less as an honest man than that this boy is the greatest man in the world; it could not have been believed."

But in spite of such occasional confessions the boy had a hard time to succeed. Every possible obstacle was put in the way of his opera. The manager who had agreed to produce the opera was influenced to change his mind, the singers complained of their parts, and said that the music was too difficult for them to sing, the copyists so altered the scores that the boy did not recognize his own work at rehearsals. Finally father and son had to agree that the opera be withdrawn, realizing that if it were played it would be so wretchedly done that it would bring more blame than praise to its composer.

Yet this boy was not to be daunted. Although his opera which was a very long work, containing 558 pages, was not to be given, he instantly set to work again, and in little more than a month had finished three new works for a full orchestra.

Seeing how much the jealousy of other musicians in Germany and Austria hurt his work, the young Mozart turned his eyes toward Italy. That country was the home of the arts, and each city had its band of citizens who were as devoted to music as they were to poetry and the stage.

Fortunately at about the same time an invitation came from the Empress Maria Theresa inviting the young musician to compose a dramatic serenade in honor of the wedding of the Archduke Ferdinand in Milan. It was a great compliment to pay so young a man, and Mozart gladly accepted.

Going to Milan, he set to work on the composition. In contrast to the way in which he had lately been treated in Austria he found every one in Milan eager to be of help. The singers liked the music, and did their best with it. When the serenade was finally publicly given it made a great impression. The Archduke was delighted with it. For days afterward Mozart was kept busy receiving callers who wished to offer their congratulations. The Italians proved that they at least were not unwilling to admit his greatness.

Great honors had come to the young composer of Salzburg, but very little money. Most musicians of that time were simply music-masters or choirmasters at the different courts. Their support depended almost entirely upon finding some prince who would keep them at his court. Mozart cast his eyes over Europe and saw no place that offered him much promise. The world was willing enough to shower its praises on him, but not to provide him with his daily bread.

There was no place open in Italy, and so, although with regret, he had to turn homeward to Salzburg. Unfortunately a new Archbishop had just been elected for that city, and he was devoted almost entirely to hunting and sports, cared nothing for music, and could not understand why young Mozart was entitled to any special favors from him.

Under such circumstances Mozart could not stay at home; he had to accept such chances as were offered him to make a living. Being asked to write an opera bouffe for the carnival at Munich, he agreed, and again met with success. The night the opera was given the theatre was so crowded that hundreds had to be turned away at the doors. At the close of each air there was a tremendous outburst of applause, and calls for the composer. Afterward Mozart was presented to the whole court of Munich, and received their thanks for the great honor he had done them.

Singularly enough the Archbishop of Salzburg happened to be in Munich at the same time, and was very much surprised at being congratulated on every hand at possessing such a genius at his home. Some of the nobles called upon him and paid him their solemn congratulations, and he was so embarrassed that he could make no reply except to shake his head and shrug his shoulders.

Such trips as that to Munich however were now of rare occurrence. Wolfgang, now about nineteen, went back to Salzburg, and set to work harder than ever. His skill was tested in many different ways. He wrote compositions for the church, the theatre, and the concert-chamber; he played brilliantly on the clavier; he was a wonderful organist at all festivals of the church, and showed the greatest skill on the violin.

The Archbishop had to have the services of a musician on certain state occasions, and never failed to call on Mozart when he needed him. Yet all that he paid Mozart was a nominal salary, which was actually less than six dollars a year. What was true of the Archbishop was now almost equally true of all the court at Salzburg. The nobles there had never undervalued his services until he wanted to be paid for them. Then he was told that his abilities had been greatly overrated, and was advised to go to Italy and study music seriously there.

At last their neglect forced him to start forth again upon his travels to see whether he could find a prince who would accept his services at something nearer their real value.

In vain the youth wandered from court to court; then for a time he returned to Salzburg, where the Archbishop treated him as a showman might a performing dog, using his great genius in tests of skill before royal visitors.

Later he went to the Emperor's court at Vienna, and there at last he began to receive something of his due. Not only other musicians, but the public generally admitted his great gifts. He wrote operas, "Don Giovanni," "The Magic Flute," and "The Marriage of Figaro," being the most popular of them. Finally he was able to do somewhat as he pleased, instead of writing only to suit the order of a prince or noble who could pay him with some position in his court or at his home.

The world acknowledged Mozart's genius from the time when, a small boy of six, he and his sister played the clavier. But the life of a musician in those days, no matter how great his genius, was a hard one, and the world was not very kind to the youth when he grew up and had to make his own way. Perhaps his happiest days were those when his sister and he traveled with their good father, and had nothing to think of but the pleasure they could give with their great gifts.