Mozart

Mozart

The Toddler Pianist Leopold Mozart walked into the chapel in Salzburg, Austria, followed by his two small children. " I'd like to sign my daughter Nannerl up for music lessons. She is eight years old, and I already believe she has quite a talent for music, " he said to the organist. The organist, Anton, smirked a bit, for he knew how Leopold could boast about his children. " So, when will you be signing up the little boy?" Anton asked.

Leopold laughed at the joke, for little Wolfgang was only three years old. “ Not for at least five years-I think eight is certainly young enough. Little Wolfgang's fingers would barely be able to stretch over the keys. " The organist promised to sign Nannerl up. Before Leopold left, the organist called Nannerl over to the church piano. " Come, I will give you a beginner lesson, " he said. Nannerl ran over to her father, and Wolfgang toddled happily after her. " Me too, Papa, me too! " he cried.

" No, no, Wolfgang, you are too small, " said his father. “ Pianos are not meant for little folks to touch, so please go outside and play. " Wolfgang turned around obediently. If his father had seen the disappointed look on little Wolfgang's face, it would have broken his heart. Wolfgang went outside and played near the door of the church, but his every thought was on the piano. After Nannerl had finished, Wolfgang and Leopold went to speak with the organist again. Wolfgang crept up to the piano and put his little hands on the keyboard. He began to play the simple scales he had heard his big sister practicing.

The sound entranced him, and he played the scales over and over, playing them exactly right. He forgot everything else-he did not notice his father and sister standing behind him. He didn't even hear his father shouting for the organist to come see. He was completely wrapped up in the music. He began changing the scales, even inventing simple tunes of his own. Leopold stared at his young son Wolfgang. The boy was a musical prodigy.

The Child Wonder Mozart played music as naturally as he breathed. When he was four years old, it took him only half an hour to learn a difficult piece of music that was written down. If he heard the piece, even if he heard it only once, he could memorize it instantly. When Wolfgang was five, Leopold and a friend came in to find him bent over a piece of paper and writing big, black notes, smearing and splattering ink every where. " Wolfgang, what are you doing spoiling the nice, clean paper?" his father asked.