Mozart's Sister Read online

  Wolfie looked at Papa’s feet and tried one of the pedals of the organ, though he had to slip off the stool to reach it with a toe. A deep bass sounded from the pipes above us.

  Then suddenly, Wolfie pushed the stool away and played the pedals standing up, as if he were executing a complicated dance. He added his hands and, after just a few errors, was playing like he’d been practicing for months.

  I heard applause from the sanctuary and peeked over the railing of the loft to see several priests and the choirmaster clapping and talking amongst themselves.

  “Bravo!” Papa whispered in Wolfie’s ear. “Indeed this is a fresh act of God’s grace.”

  Mama beamed and kissed Wolfie’s other cheek. I scooted over in the choir pew to the far end.

  Into the shadows.

  “Hurry, children. Now that we’re in Munich, we must be seen.” Papa glanced up at the windows of the Nymphenburg Palace, which was just west of the city, and moved us near some rosebushes along a path of the palace gardens.

  “Don’t push us, Leopold,” Mama said. “We must look natural.”

  But Papa wasn’t done placing us into a scene, creating the perfect picture. He leaned over us, smiling, though his words were stern. “Nannerl, you be on the garden side, and take your brother’s hand so you both can be seen from the windows. Then the two of you walk in front of us.” He pointed at Wolfie’s nose. “Walk, don’t run.”

  We did as we were told. We’d arrived in Munich the night before, and at breakfast that morning Papa had told us how things must work on our trip. As soon as we entered a new town, we had to make it known we were there. Sometimes Papa had letters of introduction-but most of those didn’t refer to a specific date for us to perform, so we had to make that kind of arrangement after we arrived in town. And the only way to do that was to let those in charge know we were available. Papa said he wasn’t too proud to knock on doors, but he preferred this subtler, more dignified approach.

  Lucky for us, today was a gala day, the Feast of St. Antony, and many people were taking in the pretty gardens at Nymphenburg. Papa said the palace had been built in 1645 by an elector who was overjoyed by the birth of his son and heir. He’d had the palace built for his wife-or at least part of the palace. Since then it had grown enormous as other electors had added on. The grounds had all sorts of canals and pools with fountains. And flowers of every color and scent. It was like walking through sprays of summer perfume.

  But we weren’t interested in all that. We were interested in the promenades and staying close to the building in case anyone of importance happened to look outside-

  “Herr Mozart!”

  We looked at the windows. There, from the second floor, a man waved us over. He was about Papa’s age.

  “Who’s that?” Wolfie asked, too loudly.

  Mama pulled at his sleeve to quiet him while Papa herded us close to the stately white building. “Prince Frederick Michael, how wonderful to see you again,” he said.

  I stood straighter. From the way the man was dressed in a rumpled shirt and without a wig, I would not have known he was royalty. Perhaps he’d only now awakened-though it was midafternoon.

  “You remember my family from our time in Vienna, don’t you?” Papa asked the prince.

  “Of course, of course,” he said. “Greetings to you, Fran Mozart, and to you, children.”

  Mama and I curtsied, and after a poke to his back, Wolfie bowed.

  “Are you here to perform for us?”

  “That is our wish,” Papa said.

  The prince’s eyebrows dipped. “Does the elector know you’re here?”

  “Not as yet.”

  Prince Frederick stood erect and called someone over from inside the room. We could overhear his instructions to the courtier. “Go inform the elector the Mozart family is here, and ask if he would like to hear the children perform.”

  The prince leaned on the windowsill again. “Why don’t you stroll through the grounds and wait for a reply. I’m sure you’ll be sent for shortly”

  We said our good-byes, then walked away. Papa beamed. Wolfie walked backward in front of us. “Do we get to play, Papa? Do we?”

  “Shh, child. And turn around!” He pulled Wolfie and me close, one beneath each arm. “It appears God will bless our efforts. But we must pray that what has been started ends in a desirable manner.”

  I looked at Mama. She nodded once and bowed her head a bit as we walked. Her lips moved and I knew she was already sending a request to the Almighty. I did the same.

  God would hear us. He would help us make Papa happy.

  Papa never did much praying. Back in Salzburg, Mama and I would join the other women in having masses said at particular altars in particular churches-depending on the nature of our prayers. We believed in miracles and fasting, and collected relics that were said to have power. And Mama was constantly looking for signs from God. We knew the Almighty was in charge and His will ruled over all.

  Even over Papa.

  “Eat, Nannerl,” Mama said. “I know it’s nearly midnight, but you must eat so we can get to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  Too long.

  Soon after we had talked with the prince, a footman had approached us with a message that we were to perform before Maximilian III Joseph, the elector of Bavaria, at eight that evening. I’d been so excited.

  It turned out I could have stayed home.

  I pushed the plate of food away, knowing it was rude, knowing the innkeeper’s wife had made a special effort to get us something to eat at this late hour. But I didn’t care. The chance to play for Maximilian in the palace was gone. For me. Gone for me.

  I watched as Wolfie slathered butter on his bread and ate ravenously. He’d worked up an appetite performing tonight. For the entire concert had been his-except for two women who sang a few songs. The rest of the time my brother played the violin and clavier and created a constant stream of instant variations, making the audience gasp and clap. Over and over they gasped and clapped.

  For him.

  “I’m sorry they ran out of time,” Mama said, patting my hand.

  Papa reached across the table and chucked me under my chin. “No long faces. When a concert is going well, one does not change direction and risk the disfavor of the audience.”

  Wolfie put his feet up on his chair, his shins against the table. He pulled his bread apart, shoving the pieces into his mouth. “I played and played….”

  “Yes, you did,” Mama said.

  I pushed my plate away and stood. “May I go to bed now? I’m tired.”

  Mama glanced at Papa. He motioned me over to his side. “We are going to be in Munich awhile longer, Nannerl. Tomorrow night the two of you …” He looked at Wolfie, then noticing his feet on the chair, motioned for him to put them down. “… the two of you are to perform for Duke Clemons. And perhaps we can arrange another concert for the elector.” He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it. “I want all the world to hear the talent of my lovely daughter.”

  I nodded, kissed Papa good night, and let Mama take me up to our room. I believed what Papa said. He did want the world to hear my talent.

  But he wanted them to hear my brother’s more.

  Papa and Mama had some papers on the table between thembills. Papa tossed them into a mess and sat back with a groan.

  “You knew we would have expenses, Leopold,” Mama said. “We planned for expenses.”

  “But we also planned to be paid for our services. It’s been five days since Wolfgang played before the elector, and there’s been no payment, not even a present. Do they think we can sit around for days on end, building up expenses while we wait for them to remember the debt they owe?”

  Mama straightened the bills. “I heard that your old violin student Tomasini performed twice for the elector, was in town for three weeks waiting for payment, and has only just been paid-and then, only seventy florins.”

  “Ali, but did he get the usual gold watch?” He sighed dee
ply. “Oh yes, this is such a charming custom, to keep people waiting for presents so that one has to be content if one makes what one spends.”

  “We have been invited to the gala dinner given by the elector tonight. Perhaps he will offer payment then, or request another concert.”

  “I do want to play for him,” I said.

  “And we want you to play for him.” Papa sighed. “We must be patient.”

  His words sounded hollow-for he was rarely patient but I held my tongue.

  Suddenly Papa stood and called to Wolfie, who was playing with some blocks in a corner. “Wolfgang, come here”

  Wolfie came close, banging two blocks together as he marched to an inner cadence. Papa took them away and got his attention. “Tonight at the dinner, if we have the elector’s ear, I want you to tell him we are leaving tomorrow”

  “But we aren’t leav-”

  Papa stopped Mama’s words with a look. “If I nod to you and touch my cheek like this, I want you to say that aloud. Understand?”

  “Yes, Papa,” Wolfie said.

  Mania straightened the pile of bills. “So you think he will invite us to stay if he believes we are leaving?”

  “When we left the palace on the night Wolfgang performed, I heard the elector say that he regretted not hearing our little girl.” He smiled at me. “See, liebchen? Papa will take care of everything. Just as I promised.”

  All would be well. If Wolfie remembered his line….

  We sat at a table with the elector, his sister Maria Antonia, and the prince-man from the window My stomach was in knots wondering if everything would play out as Papa had planned. I kept watching Papa for the sign-the tap to his cheek. And I watched Wolfie, hoping if Papa did give the sign, he’d repeat the right words. But Wolfie was making his fork-and mine-march across the tablecloth like twin soldiers. If only Papa had asked me to say the line. He could trust me.

  Suddenly I saw Papa’s finger tap his cheek. I jerked my head toward Wolfie, ready to nudge him.

  But I didn’t need to. Wolfie set the forks down, smiled at the elector, and said, “We’re leaving town tomorrow and I don’t want to”

  Those were more words than Papa had told him to say, but I didn’t think they would hurt. I hoped they wouldn’t hurt.

  “Well, well,” the elector said. “We can’t have that” Then he smiled at me, right at me. “Not when I haven’t heard the lovely Fraulein Mozart play. I should have liked to hear her.”

  I looked at Papa. The elector looked at Papa. Mama looked at Papa.

  “Well indeed,” Papa said. “I guess it would not matter if we stayed a few more days-if it would give you pleasure”

  The elector hit the table with the palm of his hand. “Splendid.”

  Oh yes. It was splendid. I was going to play.

  My chance to perform was delayed two days because the elector had a day of hunting planned, and then there was a French play he wanted to attend. But finally it was my night.

  And I did well.

  The applause!

  I got off the bench and offered the audience my best curtsy. But it was Papa’s eyes I sought. And there he was, to the side with Mama and Wolfie. He was clapping too.

  I’d gotten my chance to perform. Papa was proud of me.

  The world was good and right. I would hold on to this moment forever.

  We got paid, and it was good pay too, Papa said. One hundred florins from the elector and seventy-five from the duke. Best of all, the money took care of our bills. The inn cost forty-seven florins. That left us a profit of one hundred twenty-eight florins-Papa made us do the math. I got it right first. Wolfie said “twelve.” He was good at math, but when he didn’t want to be bothered, he said “twelve.”

  Then we were on our way to Augsburg, the town where Papa grew up. Papa never said much about his childhood. An hour out of Munich I wondered about that.

  “Papa?”

  He sat across from me, making notations in his diary-he’d made me start a diary too, but I couldn’t write in the jostling carriage like he could.

  “Papa?” I asked again.

  With a sigh he looked up. “I’m busy, Nannerl.”

  “I was just wondering if we are going to meet any of your family when we’re in Augsburg. Do they know we’re coming? Will they come hear-?”

  He snapped his diary shut, and Mama leaned forward and put a hand on my knee. What had I said?

  “We will not meet my family, and I’m sure if they find out about your concerts, they will purposely stay away.”

  There was so much anger in his voice. “But why?” I asked. “Isn’t our grandmother still living? I’d like-”

  “I don’t care what you’d like, young lady. Children should not dig up what is better buried.” He opened his diary. “Now, leave me be.”

  I wanted to cry. Why was he so angry at his own mother? I wanted to meet her. I wanted to meet all the Mozart familyespe-cially since our own family was so small. We should have been a family of seven brothers and sisters, yet all but Wolfie and I had died.

  Mama patted my knee. She nodded slightly to Papa beside her, put a finger to her lips, and mouthed, “Later.”

  Good. Mama would tell me. I’d hear the truth from Mama.

  That night at the inn, while Papa worked with Wolfie on his violin, Mama asked me if I’d like to go for a walk. When she added “So we can talk” I hoped she would tell me about the Augsburg Mozarts.

  We put on our bonnets and set out alone. It was a warm June evening and we didn’t need a shawl. The sun was just beginning to set, so I knew our time was limited. Mama had taught me that women were not to be out walking unaccompanied in the dark.

  As we moved past the edge of the inn, I didn’t say anything. I wanted Mama to bring the subject forward.

  And she did. “You asked about the Augsburg Mozarts…

  “Papa was angry.”

  “He has a right to be.”

  We walked past a store selling books. Mama pointed to the sign. “Your grandfather and his father were bookbinders”

  I hadn’t known that. “I love books.”

  She nodded but went on. “Your father could have joined them in the business, but … they wanted him to become a priest.”

  I started to laugh, then put a hand to my mouth. “Papa? A priest?”

  “It was not what he wanted either.” She smiled. “Nor what he was suited for.”

  “They’re angry at one another for that?”

  “They did not understand his passion for music.”

  I lifted my skirt and stepped over some horse-dirty in the street. “But if he had not become a musician, we would not …”

  Mama put an arm around my shoulders. “He pursued what was in his heart. That … and me.”

  It took me a moment to understand. “They didn’t approve of your marriage?”

  She shook her head. “My family was poor. When your father and I fell in love, his father was dead, and his mother had remarried. And your father’s siblings … they argued a lot”

  “Wolfie and I argue sometimes.”

  “Not like they did.” Mama withdrew her arm from my shoulders and I slipped my hand into the crook of her elbow. “I have never met them.”

  “Never?”

  She shook her head. “What distresses your father the most was that your grandmother withheld money that was due him as the oldest son.”

  Money. Yes, that would upset Papa. “Was it a large sum?”

  “Substantial. The other siblings received three hundred florins upon their marriage-that is equal to nearly a year’s salary for your father. But we received nothing.”

  “Because he didn’t become a priest?”

  Mania shrugged. “Your father is a good man and did what needed to be done. That the family will not make amends brings me great sorrow”

  I could not help but notice she’d said, “brings me great sorrow” When Papa had gotten upset in the carriage, it had been out of anger, not grief.

>   Mama turned around and we started back. I had one more question to ask. “Why are we going to Augsburg if it brings him such pain?”

  Mama leaned close. “Revenge can be sweet.”

  Ah. So that was it. His family would see that Papa was a success-and so were Wolfie and I. Maybe, if we played extremely well, his family would run toward us after the concert, take us into their arms, and say, “You are wonderful and it’s been too long. Finally, we are together at last!”

  I would have happy dreams tonight, imagining.

  ezy-46-1 )~~L

  Family was everything to Papa. Though, if offered this fact, he might have hedged and exclaimed that God was more important. But those of us who knew the truth would see his piety for what it was: a statement made for the Almighty’s benefit.

  We were not so easily fooled.

  Yet, while in Augsburg, just weeks into our trip, amid the roots of my father’s familial ties, I was confronted with a confusing fact: family was all-important-as long as it wasn’t Papa’s family.

  “Keeping the proper people away from our concerts? It’s the work of my brothers, I know it!”

  “Shh, Leopold.” Mama looked toward the door of our room at the inn, her hands pressing the air, trying to calm him. “You mustn’t make such sweeping statements.”

  Papa purposely faced the door and spoke as if his extended family were directly on the other side. “I can-if it’s the truth!”

  Wolfie and I were behind the screen changing into our bedclothes, but we peeked through the slats. I wasn’t sure how his family could keep people away. Or what people were “proper.”

  “And my mother …” Papa continued. “Though she remains my mother a thousand times over, she is wretched and has very little sense. She favors my siblings. She lets them take advantage. She always has.”

  Mama put a hand on his shoulder. “Dear one … the dowry is an old wound. We’ve been married for fourteen years now, and-”

  Papa moved away from her touch. “It’s an undressed wound!” His voice lowered. “And you know there are more issues at stake than that.”

  She moved close a second time and took his hand. “I know”

  “I wanted them to see. I wanted them …”

  She stroked his cheek. “I know …”