Читать книгу Stories of Great Musicians - Olive Brown Horne - Страница 12

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Far, far away over land and sea lies the little town of Salzburg. What a beautiful place it is! Old Mother Nature herself has given it its charm. The town lies in the midst of a smiling plain. On one side are the forest-clad hills, dark and green. Behind the town rise the mountains, steep and rugged. As the great white clouds float across the blue sky above, their shadows are seen on the bare rock of the mountain sides below.

Here in 1756, in the home of a musician, a little child was born. The fair-haired baby boy was very welcome. He was the pet and plaything of the whole household. His sister Marian was especially fond of him. She was four years older than her little brother. She looked forward to the time when he would be old enough to play with her.

The baby's father was an organist and violinist. He played in the king's chapel. The child's mother was a beautiful, loving woman. So it is not strange that little Wolfgang Mozart, for that was his name, became a musician.

No two children ever had a happier childhood than Marian and Wolfgang Mozart. Their father and mother were always planning how to make them happy. Leopold Mozart, the father, was not a rich man, but his heart was full of love and tenderness.

Dearly did little Wolfgang love his father. He never went to bed without kissing him on the tip of the nose, and singing a little good-night song. He used to say, "Next to God comes papa."

Leopold Mozart devoted much time to the training of his two children. When Marian was quite small, he began to give her piano lessons. The child learned rapidly. Little Wolfgang, three years old, liked to listen while his sister was having her lesson.

One afternoon Marian's father was giving her a music lesson. Wolfgang stood close to the piano, as he was fond of doing. He was as quiet as a little mouse. All through the lesson he watched and listened. When it was over, he surprised his father. He searched for a few moments among the white keys. Then with his baby fingers he played one of Marian's exercises. He was only a tiny lad, and yet he played the exercise correctly. Leopold Mozart caught his little son in his arms, exclaiming, "Who would have thought the baby understood what I was teaching Marian?"

Little Wolfgang was fond of games and had many toys. Often some little friend played with him. Wolfgang was happiest when they had music in their games. Indeed, he would not play when there was no music. Even when they carried their playthings from one room to another, the one who went empty-handed must sing a march.

When the boy was four years old, his father began teaching him. He learned music easily, often mastering a piece in half an hour. A year later he began to compose little pieces, which his father wrote down.

One day Leopold Mozart came home from church with a friend. He found his son daubing notes on a sheet of paper. The child dipped his pen to the very bottom of the inkhorn each time. He made many blots on his paper; but he was not discouraged. He wiped them off with the sleeve of his coat and went cheerily on.

"What are you doing there, my boy?" asked his father. "I am writing a concerto and have almost got to the end of the first part," replied Wolfgang.

The father took the paper and showed it to his friend. They laughed heartily at first. After a time, however, they saw that it was written according to rule. The father said, "It is a pity it can not be made use of. It is so difficult that no one could play it." "It is a concerto," said Wolfgang, "and must be studied till it can be played properly. See, this is the way it should be given." Going to the piano, he tried to play it for them.

Wolfgang Mozart was the most gentle and loving of children. He would say many times a day to those about him, "Do you love me well?" Sometimes they laughingly replied, "No." At this answer, tears would run down the little fellow's cheeks.