MOZART.

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That most of those who are now by universal consent numbered among the benefactors of the human race reaped little benefit from their genius, however actively exerted, is a melancholy truth not to be disputed, and seldom more strongly exemplified than in the instance of the great composer, who is the subject of this memoir. He to whom all the really civilized parts of the world are so deeply indebted for the increase, to an almost incalculable amount, of the stock of an intellectual and innocent pleasure, scarcely ever enjoyed a moment’s respite from ill-requited labour and corroding anxieties: few, not in a state of actual want, ever suffered more from the evils of poverty; and he who left so valuable a treasure to mankind had not in the hour of death the consolation of feeling that he had been able to secure against the miseries of dependence, an affectionate wife and her helpless offspring.

Johann-Chrysostomus-Wolfgang-Gottlieb Mozart was born at Salzburg, January 26, 1756. His father, Leopold, was sub-chapel master, or organist, to the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg, and a skilful performer on the violin, a valuable treatise on which instrument he published, in quarto, under the title of ‘Violinschule,’ in 1769. Whatever time the duties of his office left at his disposal, he devoted to the education of his two children, and he began to give his daughter, who was four years older than her brother, instructions on the harpsichord, when the latter had scarcely completed his third year. The boy’s strong disposition for music then immediately developed itself: his delight was to seek out thirds on the instrument, and his joy was unbounded when he succeeded in discovering one of these harmonious concords.

Engraved by J. Thomson.
MOZART.
From a Print engraved by C. Kohl, 1793.
Under the Superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
London, Published by Charles Knight & Co. Ludgate Street.

When Wolfgang had attained his fourth year, says M. Schlichtegroll, his father began, though hardly in earnest, to teach him a few minuets and other short pieces of music. It took the child half an hour to learn a minuet, and proportionately more time to master compositions of greater length. In less than two years he had made such progress, that he invented short pieces of music, which his father, to encourage such promising talent, committed to writing. It is to be regretted that not one of these curious manuscripts, if preserved, has ever been produced. Before he began to manifest a predilection for music, his amusements were like those of other children; and so ardent was he in the pursuit of them, that he would willingly have sacrificed his meals rather than be interrupted in his enjoyment. His great sensibility was observable as soon as he could make his feelings understood. Frequently he said to those about him, “Do you love me well?” and when in sport he was answered in the negative, tears immediately began to flow. He pursued everything with extraordinary ardour. While learning the elements of arithmetic, the tables, chairs, even the walls, bore in chalk the marks of his calculations. And here it will not be irrelevant to state,—what we believe has never yet appeared in print,—that his talent for the science of numbers was only inferior to that for music: had he not been distinguished by genius of a higher order, it is probable that his calculating powers would have been sufficiently remarkable to bring him into general notice.

When under six years of age, Mozart surprised his father, though well accustomed to these premature manifestations of musical genius, by the production of a concerto for the harpsichord, written in every respect according to rule, the only objection to which was its difficulty of execution. This circumstance at once determined Leopold Mozart to let the youthful prodigy be seen at some of the courts of Germany. He therefore carried his whole family, as soon as Wolfgang had completed his sixth year, to Munich, where they were received by the Elector in so flattering a manner, that the party returned to Salzburg to prepare for other visits. In 1762 they proceeded to Vienna, and performed at court. Here Mozart, when sitting down to play, said to the emperor Francis I.,—“Is not M. Wagenseil here? he ought to be present; he understands such matters.” The emperor sent for M. Wagenseil. “Sir,” said the child to the composer, “I shall play one of your concertos,—you must turn the leaves for me.” About the same time, a small violin was purchased for him, merely for his amusement; but while it was supposed to be little more than a toy in his hands, he made himself so far a master of the instrument, that when Wenzl, the violinist, brought his newly composed trios to Leopold Mozart for his opinion, Wolfgang supplicated to be allowed to take the second violin part, and accomplished the task as much to the satisfaction of the composer as to the wonder of all.

In 1763 the Mozart family commenced an extended tour, giving concerts in the principal cities through which they passed. In Paris they continued five months, and Wolfgang performed on the organ in the chapelle du roi, in presence of the whole court. There he composed and published his first two works, which, compared with other productions of the day, are by no means trivial. In April, 1764, the party arrived in London, where they remained till the middle of the following year. Here, as in France, the boy exhibited his talents before the royal family, and underwent more severe trials than any to which he had before been exposed, through which he passed in a most triumphant manner. So much interest did he excite in London, that the Hon. Daines Barrington drew up an account of his extraordinary performances, which was read before the Royal Society, and declared by the council of that body to be sufficiently interesting and important to form part of the Philosophical Transactions, in the seventieth volume of which it is published. But some suspicions having been entertained by many persons that the declared was not the real age of the youthful prodigy, Mr. Barrington obtained, through Count Haslang, then Bavarian minister at the British court, a certificate of Wolfgang’s birth, signed by the chaplain of the Archbishop of Salzburg, which at once dispelled all doubts on the subject.

In 1765, the family returned to the continent. At the Hague, where Mozart published six sonatas, they remained some months; then paid a second long visit to Paris, and, passing through Switzerland, reached Salzburg in 1768. Some time after, the children performed at Vienna before Joseph II., by whose desire Mozart composed an entire opera, La finta Sposa. Hasse and Metastasio both bestowed great commendations on the work, but it never was produced on the stage, and the probability is that its merit was only of a relative kind.

In 1769, Mozart (in his fourteenth year!) was appointed director of the Archbishop of Salzburg’s concerts. Shortly after he proceeded with his father to Italy, where he was received with enthusiasm. At Rome he gave a proof of memory which is still the subject of conversation in that city. He heard the famous Miserere of Allegri in the pontifical chapel, and knowing that the pope’s singers were forbidden, under pain of excommunication, to furnish a copy, or allow one, under any plea, to be taken, he gave his utmost attention to the composition during its performance, wrote it down when he returned home, and exultingly carried it with him to Germany. While in Italy, the pope invested him with the order of the Golden Spur. At Bologna he was unanimously elected a member of the Philharmonic Academy. He reached Milan in October, 1770, and in the following December gave his second opera, Mitridate, which had a run of twenty nights. In 1773 he composed another serious opera, Lucio Silla; this was performed twenty-six nights successively. He produced many other works of various kinds between that year and 1779, when he fixed his residence permanently in Vienna.

In his twenty-fifth year he was captivated by Madlle. Constance Weber, an amiable, accomplished, and celebrated actress, to whom he soon made a proposal of marriage. This was courteously declined by her family, on the ground that his reputation was not then sufficiently established. Upon this he composed his Idomeneo, in order to prove what means were at his command; and, animated by the strongest passion that ever entered his heart, produced an opera which he always considered his highest effort: certainly it was the first that showed his positive strength. Parts of it are in his most original, and grandest manner; but parts show that he had not quite emancipated himself from the thraldom of custom. Some of the airs, though far superior to those of his contemporaries, are too much in the opera style then prevailing, a style now become nearly obsolete; and when, a few years ago, it was wished to bring out Idomeneo at the King’s Theatre, it became evident that, if performed as originally written, its success would be very doubtful. To Madlle. Weber, on whom the composer’s affections were unalterably fixed, was assigned the principal character in the opera, and the high reputation which the author acquired by his work having immediately silenced the objections of Constance’s family, her hand was shortly after the reward of his efforts.

In 1782 Mozart composed Die EntfÜhrung aus dem Serail, (L’EnlÉvement du SÉrail,) and here it is evident that he had entirely broken the fetters which before he had only loosened. Here is exhibited that style which, in an improved state, afterwards characterized all his dramatic works. It was on the first representation of this opera that Joseph II. remarked to the composer,—“All this may be very fine, but there are too many notes for our ears.” To which Mozart, with that independent spirit which always characterised him, replied,—“There are, Sire, just as many as there ought to be.” Le Nozze di Figaro—second in merit only to Don Giovanni, if to that—was produced in 1786, by command of the Emperor, by whose authority alone an Italian conspiracy against it was suppressed.

In 1787 appeared, first at Prague, the chef-d’oeuvre of Mozart, his Don Giovanni, which was received with enthusiasm by the Bohemians, but at that time, and indeed years after, was above the comprehension of the Viennese public, whose taste, unlike that which prevails in the north of Germany, still inclines them to prefer the nerveless, meagre compositions of Italy. “This matchless work of its immortalised author,” never found its way to our Anglo-Italian stage till the year 1817, when it was performed in a manner that surpassed all former representations, and has never since been equalled. The production of Don Giovanni in London,—which put ten thousand pounds into the manager’s pocket, and forms an era in our musical history—was so strenuously opposed by an Italian cabal, that but for the courage and perseverance of the director of that season, it would have been put aside, even after all the expense of getting up and trouble of rehearsing had been incurred. The charming comic opera, Cosi fan tutti, was composed in 1790; Die ZauberflÖte and La Clemenza di Tito, in 1791; the latter for the coronation of Leopold II.

The last and, taken as a whole, the most sublime work of Mozart, his Requiem, was written on his death-bed; and having been left in rather an unfinished state, his pupil, SÜssmayer, filled up some of the accompaniments. This circumstance led, a few years ago, to a dispute concerning its authorship, some indiscreet friends of the latter having claimed as his composition the best parts of the mass. The assertions by which the claim was supported, and the arguments in its favour, proved unavailing against the internal evidence which the work afforded, and it is to be presumed that the controversy will never be renewed. A story, too, that an anonymous, mysterious stranger commissioned Mozart to compose the Requiem, raised many idle conjectures, some of them of the most grossly superstitious kind. The matter, however, has latterly been very satisfactorily explained[2].

2.See Harmonicon, vol. iv., page 102.

This illustrious composer, on whom nature bestowed so much vigour of imagination, so little physical strength, never seemed destined to attain longevity. Slightly constructed, and feeble in constitution, he required more mental repose than his necessities would allow. His mind did not yield, but his body gave way, and on the 5th of December, 1792, prematurely worn out, he expired thoroughly exhausted, without any appearance of organic disease.

It has been said of Mozart, that his knowledge was bounded by his art, and that detached from this he was little better than a nonentity. That his thoughts were almost wholly bent on music was not a matter of choice, but of necessity. Had not his miserably-remunerated labours occupied nearly all his time, his means would have been still more limited than they were. But we have reason to think (as we have elsewhere stated) that his acquirements were far greater than in England is generally believed; in proof of which we have the best authority for saying, that once, at a court masquerade given at Vienna, Mozart appeared as a physician, and wrote prescriptions in Latin, French, Italian, and German; in which not only an acquaintance with the several languages was shown, but great discernment of character, and considerable wit. Assuming this to be true, he could not have been a very ignorant man, nor always a dull one, out of his profession. But still stronger evidence in favour of his understanding may be extracted from his works. That he who, in his operas, adapted his music with such felicity to the different persons of the drama—who evinced such nicety of discrimination—who represented the passions so accurately—who coloured so faithfully—whose music is so expressive, that without the aid of words it is almost sufficient to render the scene intelligible,—that such a man should not have been endowed with a high order of intellect is hard to be believed, but that his understanding should have been below mediocrity is incredible.

Had Mozart lived, this country, which witnessed his early proofs of genius, would have enjoyed it in its matured and most luxuriant state. When Salomon, the celebrated violin player—an enterprising, liberal, sensible man—was about establishing his subscription-concerts in London, he went to Vienna to engage either Haydn or Mozart to compose symphonies for him, and after several “most amicable and pleasant meetings” (Salomon’s own words) between the parties, it was agreed that Haydn should first proceed to the rich capital of the British dominions, and that the following season he should be succeeded by Mozart. The illness and death of the latter rendered unavailing an arrangement which would at least have compensated his labours more adequately than they had ever before been rewarded. The father of modern orchestral music may be said to have made his fortune—a small one, it is true, but an independence—by his visits to London; and the creator of an entirely new, an infinitely superior, style of dramatic music would hardly have been less successful.

The compositions of Mozart are of every kind, and so numerous, that we cannot pretend to give even a bare list of them. But it may be observed, generally, that from the sonata to the symphony, from the simplest romance to the most elaborate musical drama, he—whose career was stopped before he had completed his thirty-sixth year—composed in every imaginable style, and excelled in all. In each class he furnished models of the greatest attainable excellence: “exquisite melodies, profound harmonies, the playful, the tender, the pathetic, and the sublime,” are to be found among his works. It is the exclusive privilege of first rate merit to be more admired as it is better known; and while inferior composers enjoy their day of fashion, and are forgotten, Mozart’s fame will continue to expand in proportion as mankind advances in taste and knowledge.

Engraved by W. Holl.
LOYOLA.
From a Print by Bolswert, after a Picture by Rubens.
Under the Superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
London, Published by Charles Knight & Co. Ludgate Street.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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