The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1897-12-16
MOZART
By Miss Emma Averett-Read Be-
fore the Mozart Club, Dec. E, ~.

1
The pictured face OF a Musician looks
down upon me as l write. Near by, lies
his beautiful hute-now, a mere thing of
ebony and silver, cold and mute as the
lips that once evoked from it as sweet
music as ever pulsed from the lips OF
Pan. There are many who recall those
summer evenings, when charmed ears
drank in some delightful aria from
Martha, ii Trovatore, Faust, La Som
nambula and other Operas. Sometimes,
on still moonlit nights. when days rest
less rush had given place to evenings
be stirred by sort of gentle sadness, Ga
mood well known to musicians:) and the
flute would breathe forth the divine res
| ignatiOn of the Miserere, or. mavbap
the dreamy notes of Shubert's Serenade.
In changed mood, he might play for us
the soldiers chorus from Trovatore, or
| that eXultant march from Mozart's Don
Juan. But whatever he played it was
| sure to be from the old masters, for he
loved them all; and, loving them, and
| knowing them well, this reverent Musi-
| clan threw his soul into the music that
/ thrObbed and thrilled from his flute or
| his violin. TO hear him was II pleasure
| no one ever ceased to remember To
| be his accompanist was liberal educa-
ton. 1t was through this medium
| learned to bow with reverence before the
shrine of the great Composers-Mozart,
Mendelssohn, Beethoven, Verdi, Rossina,
! and all that glorious company whose
names shine, diamond-bright stars, in
the musical tirmament-set high above
| the 'esser lights, and cleaning brighter
and still more brilliant as the years roll
by, and no Others rise to their great
height. 1t is of one of these composers
that | write to-night-Mozart occurs to
Inc mainly because | love all that he
wrote. so, Mozart! Immortal Mozart!
How many and what countless images
OF brighter and better world hast thou
stamped upon our souIs.'' Such was
Shuberts lovely tribute to Mozart's
genius, and, indeed it is by it's influence
that we ever recognize true genius.
On its strong, pure wings upborne,
far above the sordid atmosphere of
Earth. The crudest ear, the most
most material mind, would yield to
the spell of this masters music. He
gave forth, at will, melody so sweet
that it seemed of the angels, or notes so
instinct with life, so exhIirating, that
sadness fled before their spell, and the
grey of life changed to roseate.
Mozart was born at Salzburg, 9th
January, 1856. The first easy lessons
| in music were given him by his proud
father when the boy was only years
old. Those baby fingers soon learned to
play easy mnuets, and when he was
only little over 4 years of age, he
began to compose. A concerto for the
clavier was composed by him about this
time. At years OF age he was won
derful clavier player, violinist and COM
poser. At that tender age, we find him
scoring triumphs in Vienna, Mayence
and Munich-then in Paris and Yer
salles, and, later on, in London. There,
this wonderful child was summoned to
play before George III and Queen Char
lotte. About this time he composed six
SOnatas.
When II years old, he composed the
music TO "ApoIlo and Hyacinth," and
an operetta; also the opera, LA Finta
Semplice. At this period, professional
envy first cast it's balefu shadow across
the path of this gifted young musician.
But true and unerring as the lark's flight
skyward, his aspirations, his hopes, were
ever upward, and nothing chilled their
ardor. Such is the power of music, po-
etry and the other fine arts. God
given, they draw our thoughts, our
aims, toward higher life. Ever high
er above LIES miasma they lift US,
into sublimated, purer atmosphere.
In Vienna, when twelve years old,
he welded the conductors baton in
the performance of one of his compost
tions before the entire imperial family.
Genius was ever impecuniOus. 1t seems
to be sort of unwritten law that the
purple and fine linen of life rarely fall to
it's lot. 1t would seem that such an en-
quste plant would find it's fullest, rich
est development in Life sunniest, choic-
est places but history proves the re-
verse to be true. notwithstanding his
powers as composer and a performer
of music, Mozart had barely enough to
live upon. Costly gifts were his. in ga
lore, but OF money he had very little.
He had been travelling from city to city,
in the hope of securing some settled APP
pointment, but at last discouraged, he
turned his face homeward some time in
1871. On his way he stopped at Munich,
and there, this brilliant, handsome
young man was shot straight through
the heart by an arrow from the bow of
that arrant little NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.
In plain English, he fell in love, and with
married on August +, 1885. All
this time, he was composing, ever
composing-for the essence of this mans
soul seemed to take the lovely form of
music, and unfold it's sweetness to the
world as easily as the odor emanates
from the heart Of n rose. "Eigaro" was
first performed in May, 1856, "Don Giov-
anni' came next, and its first perform
ance took place in Prague in October,
1897. Then came his last great opera,
"The Magic Flute" All this time,
through poverty and the countless sad
details incident to it, he and his beloved
Constance were ideally happy. In 1871
he began upon his last work "The Re-
uuiem" This is his finest contribution
to church music. His deep religious con-
victions, his conceptions of the Divine
are embodied in this work. These had
stood him in good stead during long
years OF privation and disappointment.
Despite his great musical achievements,
the grim shadow of poverty had ever
darkened his liie-interposed it's lank
arm between him and the fair fruition
of his proudest hopes. But his gentle
apirit lost none of its lovely symmetry
Rounded to fair completion, it was but
awaiting transpOsitiOn to more congenial
civ vi -\ON ~, llc1, Ue was
seized with violent illness. His thoughts
were upon his wife and child and occa-
sionalty they would wander to the per-
Torrance of his "Magic Flute" He said,
"Now the LIST act is over-now is the
time for the Queen of the Night" He
grew rapidly worse, and On 9Th Deem
Der, 1871, the soul of the great Master
passed away. He lies buried near Vi
emma.
In the vast, mystic realm OF Thought,
exists an inner court-a sanctum sane
torum-the hall of Imagination or
| Fancy. Its golden door swings ever
ajar, but only the soul richly lowered
| with Heavens best gifts cares to revel in
| it's delights.
| Musicians know well this sacred place.
For them, it is tapestried with lovely
visions, rooted with cleaning white sta
lactites of Music's fairest dreams, and
bright with the radiance OF Heavenly in