The Mozart Girl

by Barbara Nickel

  “We’ll see,” said Sopherl with a smile as she closed the door.

  At home again, after she had thanked the driver, Nannerl sneaked back into the palace through the quiet kitchen. Lights still burned; the Countess must still be awake. Nannerl tiptoed quietly upstairs to her family’s apartment and saw that Wolfi and Papa’s cloaks were still missing from the rack. She got ready for bed, crept under the covers, and lit a candle.

  December 23, 1763

  Dear Diary,

  Sopherl helped me! I played the violin! It was the most delicious feeling—I can’t describe it. And I can’t stop thinking about playing my symphony at the Versailles concert! I suppose I’ll have to ask Wolfi if I can borrow his violin. I need to practice before the concert. But he’s still mad at me for the way I got mad at him yesterday. I don’t blame him. After all, it wasn’t his fault. I was just mad and jealous because Herr Bach listened to him and not me. I don’t really hate Wolfi!

  Maybe, if I ask nicely, he’ll play the organ part to my symphony! I’ll just have to trust—

  Nannerl heard the sound of footsteps and quickly snuffed out the candle. She let her diary fall to the floor, turned to the wall and squeezed her eyes tight, pretending to sleep.

  “Well, my boy, I expect you to compose a motet a week from now until we reach London,” Papa was saying as they put away their coats and got ready for bed.

  “Those motets got a bit boring,” said Wolfi. “But the choir was good, even though the director stuck his nose in the air too much.”

  Nannerl heard light footsteps approaching her room. Then the door clicked open and she could feel someone standing by her bed. Wolfi or Papa…she heard the brush of a coat against the quilt and then he was gone, closing the door behind him. Maybe it had been Wolfi—he was so strange sometimes. But she really wasn’t mad at him anymore. She would apologize tomorrow and maybe he would agree to play the organ in her symphony. She fell asleep remembering how Sopherl’s violin had felt under her chin.

  14

  Versailles

  Mama, can I please just have a taste of the marzipan you made?” Wolfi begged. He hopped down from the clavier stool and ran over to where Mama packed a trunk full of Christmas baking. “I’m starving, Mama, please?”

  “Wolfgang,” Mama scolded, “you know very well that on Christmas Eve we fast; now is the time to feel hunger. Tonight we will eat a bit of fish. But tomorrow…tomorrow on Christmas Day at the grand banquet at Versailles, you may eat as much as you like!”

  “I guess I can wait a little longer,” said Wolfi. He ran back to the clavier and started practicing again.

  Nannerl’s stomach rumbled as she listened to Wolfi’s music and packed the trunk with candles and quilts. She hated the carp they had to eat every Christmas Eve. She could already taste its fishy bitterness on her tongue. On Christmas Day she would eat lots of marzipan, the sweets Mama made from almonds, to get rid of the taste of carp.

  “Hurry with that packing, Nannerl,” said Mama. “Papa and Sebastian will soon be back with the carriage and we still have to pack the clothing trunks.”

  Nannerl tucked a few candles into the trunk and sighed with impatience. This morning she had woken up and realized that she must copy out a separate part for every instrument that would perform her symphony! Right now she just had a full score; all the instruments together on one page. But everyone couldn’t squish together and try to read off of the same score. They each had to have their own part, neatly copied, like the Mannheim orchestra. But when would she copy out all the parts? And who would play the organ? And how would she find a violin to play? She looked at Wolfi bent over the keys of the clavier, his tongue sticking out a bit as he concentrated on his sonata. She would have to make up with Wolfi.

  Papa and Sebastian came into the room. “We really must hurry,” said Papa with a worried frown. “I want to make sure that there is room for us at the Versailles hotel and we must have time to get settled and have our Christmas Eve supper before Mass.” He went over to where Nannerl was tucking in the last corner of a quilt. “Is this trunk ready, Nannerl?” asked Papa.

  “Yes, Papa,” said Nannerl, letting the lid bang shut. She looked over at Wolfi, still practicing as if he had never heard Papa enter the room. “Papa, if Wolfi packed his own clothing trunk instead of me packing both his and my own trunk as I usually do, don’t you think things would go so much faster?”

  Papa raised his eyebrows and scratched his head a bit.

  “But Wolfgang must have time to—” He stopped and looked at Nannerl for a while. Then he went over to the clavier and tapped Wolfi on the shoulder. Wolfi looked up at Papa and frowned.

  “We must leave for Versailles soon, Wolfi,” said Papa. “Please come and pack your clothing trunk so that we can get ready—”

  “But Papa, Nannerl always packs mine and I have to practice,” argued Wolfi. His lower lip began to stick out in a pout.

  “There will be no arguing, Wolfgang,” said Papa. “You will pack your trunk and that’s that.”

  Wolfi sat at the clavier for a while with his arms folded. Then he stomped over to the wardrobe, grabbed his little coat and vest and shoved them in an empty trunk. Nannerl looked over at Mama and saw her smile a little. Then she gave Nannerl a quick wink and bent down to her packing.

  In the carriage on the way to Versailles, Wolfi pressed his nose against the glass and stared out at the rain with his back to Nannerl. She hated this silence between them. She didn’t want to make up just so that he would play in her symphony—she wanted to hug him and be friends again. But being the first one to give in was like forcing yourself to get out of bed at four in the morning and splash cold water on your face.

  Maybe she didn’t have to speak. She rapped out four quarter notes and two half notes on the bench, her and Wolfi’s secret code for “I’m sorry and let’s be friends.” Wolfi kept his nose to the glass. She rapped it again, louder. This time he turned to her and tapped back—four sixteenth notes and a triplet, meaning “I have something to tell you later.” Then he crossed his eyes and made his crabby Frau Spiegel face and Nannerl giggled. It hadn’t been that hard after all. But it didn’t feel right. Wolfi still seemed far away.

  She peered over his shoulder and saw that the rain had stopped and the pale afternoon sun was beginning to shine through the clouds. Ahead were the dark outlines of buildings. Her hands started to go clammy. This must be Versailles!

  “Papa, look!” she said, jumping up and almost bumping her head on the ceiling of the carriage. She pointed over Wolfi’s shoulder and everyone gathered around the window to look out.

  “Versailles, at last!” said Mama. They entered the village. Nannerl looked down the maze of streets curving off the main drive and glimpsed rows of large buildings and parks and more fountains.

  Wolfi was squirming and twisting and hopping up and down in his seat. “Will we get to the palace soon, Papa? Can we go inside it?” he asked.

  “First we must get settled at the hotel, Wolfgang. Tomorrow you will see the palace, perhaps even the famous hall of mirrors, and tonight, after our Christmas Eve supper, we will have Mass at the royal chapel.”

  “You mean like the hall of mirrors that we saw at Nymphenburg?” asked Nannerl.

  “Yes. Except this one is even wider and more elaborate. Everything at Versailles is grand,” answered Papa. The carriage turned and pulled up before a building with three stories. “Ah, here we are,” said Papa. “May our stay here be successful and not too expensive.”

  Mama and Wolfi and Nannerl waited on a fancy couch in the lobby while Papa arranged things with the clerk. Everyone looked rich. Women came in through the wide doors wearing capes trimmed with fur and fur in their hair instead of flowers, and a lady came in wearing a little band of fur around her arm!

  Papa walked toward them, frowning. “We’ll end up spending more money at Versailles than
anywhere in Europe! The clerk has just informed me that a single log of firewood costs five sous! And we must travel in sedan chairs here; every drive costs twelve sous and we must hire at least three of them.” He sighed, then straightened up and adjusted his wig. “Come along, children, Maria Anna—there is much to do before Mass.”

  Nannerl followed Papa up the stairs to their room. Sedan chairs! She had never ridden in one, but she had seen them sometimes in Paris. You sat inside a fancy box with a window, with poles on either side. Two men, one in the front and one in the back, lifted the poles and carried you around. And Papa would be hiring three! Maybe she would get to travel in one alone, like a real rich lady!

  It seemed to take hours to unpack, but at least Papa made Wolfi unpack his own trunk this time. The room was quite small and Nannerl had a little partition with her own bed like the one she had had in Munich. She quickly hung up her dresses in the wardrobe. In all of the excitement about Versailles she had forgotten about her symphony and the parts she had to copy. It would take hours and hours, and when could she do it? She took the pages out from the bottom of the trunk and felt panic as she looked at all of the notes.

  “Come, children. We must go down for supper,” Mama interrupted her thoughts.

  “Yes, Mama,” said Nannerl, carefully hiding her music under the bed. She slowly followed Mama and Papa and Wolfi down the stairs and into the tavern, where Papa chose a table by the fire and ordered the horrible carp. Nannerl wrinkled her nose when she thought of eating it. She looked out the window and saw the distant rows of lights that must be the Palace of Versailles.

  During supper, Nannerl remembered how in Salzburg on Christmas Eve she had always passed her carp down to Bimberl under the table. She felt an ache in her throat when she thought of Bimberl with the Hagenauer family. And it would be years before she could see her again!

  “I miss Bimberl and Katherl and Salzburg,” she announced.

  “I miss Bimberl and Herr Hagenauer but not Frau Spiegel,” added Wolfi.

  “Never mind missing Salzburg, children,” said Papa, getting up from the table. “You must remember the concert tomorrow, and playing for the King and Queen of France! Nannerl, what will you play?”

  Nannerl’s heart began pounding. How could she tell Papa that she would be playing her symphony? That is, if she could get the parts copied and if everybody showed up with their instruments. “Um—”

  “I would like you to play the difficult Eckhardt sonata that you played at Schwetzingen,” ordered Papa. “That composer Schobert who was so jealous of your Eckhardt performance will most likely be at the concert, and I’d like to see him jealous of you again. Wolfi, you will improvise on the melody you composed yesterday and play a concerto for violin and clavier. Is that clear? Now quickly go upstairs and get ready. I’ve hired three sedan chairs to take us to Mass and they will soon be here.”

  Since Wolfi was the smallest, he shared a sedan chair with Mama, and Papa and Nannerl each rode separately. Nannerl bumped along the driveway to the Palace of Versailles in the little box, looking out at the back of the carrier. She looked over and saw Wolfi on Mama’s lap, making a face at her. She gave him a dignified wave and turned forward again. She wondered what the carriers thought about all day as they toted people around Versailles in sedan chairs.

  They let her off at the royal chapel. Wolfi ran over to her while Papa was paying the drivers.

  “C’mon,” he said, pulling her arm. “Let’s explore!” They ran over to a fountain that rose out of a huge pool. Nannerl counted twelve smaller fountains forming a circle around the huge center fountain. Dim lights from the chapel flickered over the soft splash of moving water.

  Wolfi dug around in the pocket of his vest, fished out a small, rusty coin, and held it up to the light. “Remember, Nannerl?” he said. “Remember, Christmas Eve is the night for looking into the future and making sure that it’s good? Let’s toss something into the fountain and make a wish!” He squeezed his eyes tight for a while and then flung his coin. Nannerl could hear the soft plop of it sinking into the black water. “Hurry, Nannerl, make a wish!” he urged.

  Nannerl searched through her pockets for a coin. Nothing. But then she felt a thin ring on her finger. It was the one she had found in her birthday cake, the one that had predicted she would marry. She pulled it off, held it up, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She thought of Sopherl not playing the violin for twenty-five years. She remembered the thundering organ at night in the church at Wasserburg and the way it had felt to improvise for the Elector. She felt a pulse in her veins, winding all through her arms and legs and into her head. That was the music, wanting to get out somehow. Music…that was all she wished for. To always let people hear her music, however she wanted—with the violin or her voice or a symphony….

  “C’mon, Nannerl, throw it before Papa calls us to Mass,” Wolfi interrupted her thoughts.

  Nannerl opened her eyes and threw the ring with all her strength. She saw it flash like a tiny, golden bolt of lightning and disappear into the pool. Then she felt Mama’s strong hand on her shoulder.

  “Come now, to Mass,” Mama whispered. “It’s about to begin.”

  Nannerl followed Mama and Wolfi into the chapel. It was even fancier than the big cathedral in Salzburg; she looked up and saw that the ceiling was covered in paintings. But even though it was beautiful, all she really wanted was for the Mass to be over so that she could get back to the room and start copying parts. The priest’s voice droned in her ears. She kneeled on the hard board and stood and then kneeled again. She said the words but she wasn’t thinking about them. Everything became a blur of candlelight and kneeling and fuzzy words…then the thin, tasteless crunch of the communion wafer and the sour taste of wine and then more words. Over, over…if only it were over. Nannerl’s stomach rumbled and her head whirled and she felt like fainting. But then the great organ sounded through the chapel and cleared her head. They walked into the cold night, where drivers with sedan chairs waited to take people back to their apartments.

  She stared hard at her driver’s back and wished that he would hurry. She stared at his legs and his feet, wanting them to run, to fly…over the trees and the fountains, to the hotel room and her symphony. When they finally arrived, she saw by the big clock outside that it was past midnight. She raced up to the room and got straight into the little bed behind the partition. Mama stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.

  “Goodnight, Nannerl, and a Merry Christmas to my daughter,” she said.

  After everybody had said goodnight and wished each other Merry Christmas, Nannerl crept out from underneath the covers and sat on the floor. She lit her fattest candle and fished under the bed for her symphony and the manuscript paper she had pinched from the stack Papa kept with the music books. Then she dipped her pen in ink and began to copy. Some of the Kerpens could share music, so in total she would just have to copy six parts, plus one for the organ. Her stomach grew tight—she still had to ask Wolfi!

  It wasn’t very hard, since the thinking work had already been done. It was just a matter of concentrating enough not to make a silly mistake like skipping a line of music in the flute part or dribbling black ink over a clean page. After a few hours she looked with satisfaction at five neatly copied parts; the flute, the two violin parts, the viola, the cello and the clavier. She yawned and lit a new candle and began on the organ part. She shifted her legs to get rid of a cramp. Her fingers and back and neck ached. She looked longingly at the soft mound of quilt above her and rested her head for a moment on the cold floor. Her eyelids drooped. No! She jerked herself awake and opened her eyes wide. She musn’t fall asleep or she wouldn’t get the parts copied and then she would have to play the Eckhardt sonata instead of her symphony!

  She copied music until the black notes seemed to slide from her pen without effort. She fell into a rhythm; dip, look at score, copy note, dip, look at score….She told her
self stories to keep herself awake. She remembered the ones Mama used to tell about Christmas Eve—how some people thought there was magic in the air on this night; trees flowered and gave fruit, mountains split open and flashed rubies and diamonds, animals sang to each other, and church bells rang from the deep ocean. Somewhere a distant clock struck four and Nannerl worked faster.

  She thought her fingers would drop off by the time she came to the violin duet in the finale. What if she couldn’t play the violin after all? The lesson with Sopherl seemed like a faraway dream. And she hadn’t even asked Wolfi for his violin yet! Something kept her fingers around the pen, kept her dipping it in the inkwell, kept her copying until she had filled in the final note. Then she spread the sheets out to dry. She wanted to write in her diary. The clock had just struck five, but she wanted to write about this—just a short note.

  She tiptoed to the night table and opened the drawer. It wasn’t there. The bottom of her stomach seemed to fall away as she tried to remember the last time she had seen the diary…it was the night after Sopherl. Last night? Two nights ago? She couldn’t remember. She got on her knees to search under the bed. But this time when her cheek rested on the cold floor she let it stay there. Then sleep pulled her away to dreams where loose pages of her diary and her symphony lay scattered over dark muddy streets and Wolfi and Johann Christian Bach wouldn’t stop laughing.

  15

  The Christmas Day Concert

  Merry Christmas, Nannerl…Nannerl!” a soft voice whispered into her ear and a hand shook her shoulder. She forced her eyelids open and saw Wolfi’s wide blue eyes.

  “What time is—” she started to say, but Wolfi held a finger to his lips and helped her to her feet. Her head throbbed and she felt like falling to the floor again. Her arms and neck felt stiff and cramped. She lay down on the bed and Wolfi jumped up and sat across from her.