The Mozart Girl

by Barbara Nickel

  “It’s six o’clock and Mama and Papa are still sleeping,” he whispered, moving closer to her on the bed. Nannerl rubbed her eyes and tried to keep them from closing. Wolfi looked as if he had something important to say. He picked at the quilt for a while and finally took her diary from the pocket of his vest. His face got red as he handed it to her.

  So that’s where her diary had been! “Wolfi, how could you—”

  “I only read one page, the last one about your symphony, and then I stopped, honest,” he whispered. “I took it that night after I got back from the Mass with Papa. I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something mean to you for…for hating me. You never ever hated me before.” His lip quivered a bit and he squinted his eyes to hide his tears.

  Nannerl wanted to say that she didn’t hate him, that she had meant it when she had rapped “sorry” on the bench yesterday. But the jealous ache was stuck so tight in her throat she couldn’t even whisper. Wolfi’s small hands shook. Nannerl swallowed the awful ache and grabbed his hands in hers.

  “Oh, Wolfi, of course I don’t hate you,” she finally managed to whisper. “I only said that because I was jealous that Johann Christian Bach thought you were so great and then laughed at me.” She swallowed and hesitated and then blurted out, “I guess I get jealous of you a lot. I get jealous of how everyone pays attention to you all the time.”

  Wolfi looked at her with wide eyes. “Herr Bach laughed at you?”

  Nannerl nodded. “When I asked him to listen to my symphony.”

  “Well, he should have listened,” whispered Wolfi, hopping down from the bed. He began to turn red again. “I looked at your symphony before you woke up. It’s incredible! I can hardly wait to hear it!” He turned around and looked at her. “Nannerl, could I play the organ part, please, please, please?”

  Nannerl put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Of course, silly. And can I borrow your violin, please, please, please? I need it for the concert and I need to practice, too!”

  “It’ll be a little small but I think you’ll like it. Wait till I tell Papa about your symphony!”

  Nannerl shook her head. “No. Please, Wolfi. Please don’t tell Papa. That’s something that I have to do, somehow.”

  Wolfi nodded and tiptoed away, and Nannerl got under her quilt and slipped back into dreams.

  *

  “Now children,” Papa instructed over lunch. “When you see the King and Queen and members of the royal family you must not kiss their hands or even bow, but stand straight and let them pass by. That is the custom here, and we don’t want anyone to think that we Germans don’t know any better.”

  “But Papa, the Empress Maria Theresa herself took me on her lap and kissed me,” said Wolfi, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth.

  “That was in Vienna, Wolfi,” said Papa. “Here we must not kiss or talk to them. That is the custom of the court.”

  Nannerl reached for another piece of marzipan. She didn’t feel a bit tired. Mama had let them sleep in late, and in the morning, as a Christmas treat to break the fast, Mama had set out plates of marzipan, almonds, Pfeffernüsse, and chocolates. Now they were almost gone.

  “You’d better save some room for the feast at Versailles,” said Mama as Nannerl took the last chocolate. She put it back on the plate, went to her wardrobe, and took out her rose satin performance dress, tracing her finger along the lace and hoping for luck. She had actually managed to practice the violin for an hour, when Mama and Papa had been out for a walk. The duet part at the end of the symphony really wasn’t too hard.

  Now Mama spent a long time pulling Nannerl’s corset tight and fussing with her wig. “Hurry or we’ll be late,” Papa called from the doorway. Nannerl quickly stuck the pages of her symphony inside the book of Eckhardt sonatas. The clock struck three as Mama and Wolfi and Nannerl finally rushed after Papa, down the long stairway to the street below. Papa paced back and forth, twisting his hands.

  “Where are all the sedan chairs when we need them?” he said as he paced. “The banquet is to begin at four o’ clock and we simply cannot be late.”

  They waited and waited, but every sedan chair that passed them had a passenger.

  “This is ridiculous!” Papa shouted as he looked at his watch for what seemed like the fiftieth time. Nannerl began to think they wouldn’t get there and that her symphony would always stay silent.

  “I see some empty sedan chairs!” shouted Wolfi, jumping up and down and waving his arms to get the attention of the drivers who had just rounded the corner. Papa promised them extra money if they ran as fast as they could to Versailles.

  Nannerl began to go over the symphony in her head as soon as she was seated in the sedan chair box alone. What if Sopherl hadn’t been able to get the message to the Kerpens? What if they hadn’t brought their instruments? She couldn’t worry about that now. She imagined picking up Wolfi’s violin and putting it under her chin. She could imagine the surprised look on Papa’s face. She really should warn him ahead of time, but then he would just tell her not to play it, or worse: he would laugh.

  Halfway down the long driveway to the Palace of Versailles it began to rain. Nannerl saw the front driver look up at the dark clouds and run faster. She squinted out the window at the sleety rain, glimpsing wide gardens and fountains and rows of gray buildings that seemed to go on for miles. Finally, they entered the large front gates into the main courtyard and the drivers stopped in front of a set of wide doors. Nannerl tucked the book with her symphony under her cape, ducked her head against the rain, and made a run for the entrance.

  Papa, Wolfi, and Mama all arrived inside behind her, breathless and damp. A guard came toward them, smiling. He spoke in Swiss German: “You are late. But I have special orders from the queen herself to bring you straight to the banquet, to her table!” They followed him through a maze of hallways to a huge room crowded with guests. Nannerl felt like sinking down through the floor as everyone turned to stare at them. As she walked, she glimpsed the faces of Charlotte and Baron Kerpen, and of Johann Christian Bach. Everyone seemed to be here! She scanned the crowd again, hoping to see Sopherl.

  When they reached the grand head table where the royal family sat, the guard took Wolfi to stand in the position of honor, directly behind the queen. Papa stood next to Wolfi behind the king, and Mama and Nannerl stood beside Papa behind two women in fancy dresses.

  “So, would my little man like some duck?” Nannerl could hear the queen’s voice above the din in the hall. Wolfi’s curls bobbed up and down and the queen passed him a plate of steaming food.

  “Thank you very much!” said Wolfi, taking her hands to kiss them. Papa began to shake his head but the queen just laughed.

  “The little wonder boy shall kiss my hands as much as he likes!” she announced.

  “Could I have some of that chocolate as well, please?” asked Wolfi.

  “Wolfgang!” Papa began to scold, but the queen just laughed and passed Wolfi a huge plate of chocolates.

  One lady passed Nannerl some duck. It was different from anything she’d ever tasted—sweet, with some kind of creamy sauce. She licked her fingers and shifted her feet and wished that the tight feeling in her stomach would go away. Papa seemed to think it was such an honor to stand behind the royal family but she just wanted to sit like everybody else! If only she could play her symphony and get it all over with!

  Finally, the king stood and cleared his throat. The hall suddenly became quiet. “I am sure that we are all waiting for the gala Christmas Day concert. I have been anticipating it for many weeks and am especially looking forward to hearing the celebrated children of Mozart, from Salzburg!” There was a great roar of applause and Nannerl felt her hands go clammy and cold. The king banged his cup on the table for silence. “We will all meet in the grand music hall in precisely half an hour to witness the great event!” Applause sounded again.

  As she
filed out of the banquet room behind Mama, Nannerl noticed Charlotte Kerpen trying to catch her attention by pretending to play the flute. Nannerl smiled at her and waved. Sopherl must have got the message to them after all! The knot in her stomach loosened a bit.

  “Wolfi and Nannerl, stay close to Mama and me so you don’t get lost in the crowd on the way,” Papa said, resting his hands lightly on their shoulders. Nannerl nodded and for a while they all stayed together, but she kept getting ahead. She walked fast because it helped to get rid of some of the tightness in her chest and stomach and throat. Soon she was far from Wolfi and Mama and Papa, alone in the crowd, pushing through the maze of rooms and hallways leading to the music hall and the performance of her symphony. She stopped suddenly under a huge archway and caught her breath.

  The hall of mirrors stretched before her. All the way along the left side were huge, arching mirrors that almost touched the curved ceiling covered in paintings. They reflected the light of what seemed like hundreds of candles. Nannerl gingerly made her way down the polished floor, feeling that she was walking through a huge fireplace, with all the dancing shadows and pools of light reflected off the mirrors. She glanced at her reflection. She looked hunched and tight with the spooky light flickering over her face. She took a deep breath and brought her shoulders back and walked on through the passage with the sound of her symphony pulsing inside her.

  At last she reached the music hall with its grand organ. Her heart beat hard as she stood in the doorway and looked over the crowds of people. She had never played for such a huge audience!

  “There you are, Nannerl!” said Mama, taking her arm. “You shouldn’t have wandered off—we thought you were lost. You gave us a scare.”

  “I’m fine, Mama, really,” said Nannerl. She noticed with relief that Papa was too busy to scold; he was securing front-row seats. They sat down just as the music director got up to make the introductions.

  “We are pleased to have such honored guests at our Christmas Day concert….” he began. He looked as if he might talk for quite a while. Nannerl sighed and squirmed in her seat. If only she could play, now, before she lost the courage. It was the uncertainty of it all that made her heart pound. What if Papa became so angry that he threw her out on the street to live with the beggars in the shadow of Nôtre Dame? She felt the steady rise and fall of Papa’s breath beside her and the soft brush of his coat. She wanted him to be proud of her…maybe she should just forget about her symphony and play the Eckhardt.

  “…and Mozart will now introduce his prodigies,” finished the music director and sat down. Papa took a deep breath and faced the audience.

  “Honored guests of the court of Versailles,” he began. Nannerl noticed that his hand was shaking. “I’m sure you’ve all heard of my son, Wolfgang Amadeus…now, at long last, you will hear the music. Honored guests, may I introduce Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, future musical director of the courts of Europe!”

  Wolfi trotted up to the clavier and bowed to the huge applause. He stroked the keys and his melodies soared up to the great chandeliers and danced there with the hundreds of candles in warmth and light. As she listened, Nannerl felt all the queasiness slip from her stomach and slither across the polished floor. She didn’t feel a rotten ache anymore when she listened to Wolfi play. The notes tickled her skin like Bimberl’s fur and made her want to laugh and get up on her chair and dance.

  When he was finished, the audience roared for more and he played a concerto for violin and clavier. Nannerl watched the bow and his fingers and longed to have her own turn. Yet she dreaded it, too. What if she made mistakes? She felt the queasiness return as Wolfi neared the end of the third movement.

  After the thunder of applause for Wolfi, Papa stood to introduce her.

  “My eleven-year-old daughter, Maria Anna, will now execute, with amazing precision, a sonata by Johann Gottfried Eckhardt.”

  Nannerl saw the gleam in his eye as he sat down. She walked to the front of the hall to the applause, deciding at the last minute to play the Eckhardt. That would be the safest thing. All she had to do was sit down at the clavier and play with precision and everyone would clap and be happy. That old composer would be jealous and Papa would be proud.

  She sat down at the clavier and poised her hands above the keys as a hush settled in the great hall. Those two voices fought inside her. One urged her to go ahead and play the Eckhardt. The other one told her not to worry about what they thought and to get up and lead her symphony. Who cares what they think, as long as you know that it’s the best thing you ever wrote. Katherl’s words echoed in her head.

  She had to perform her symphony. She had to try. Nannerl took a big breath and stood up to face the crowd, her knees trembling under her thick dress. A wave of whispers and coughing went through the audience.

  “I am not going to play the Eckhardt tonight,” she said, her voice sounding dim-yellow and thin. She looked straight at Papa and saw a flush creep over his face. He looked at the floor. “I am going to perform a symphony which I have composed…some friends will help me…the Kerpen family orchestra…” There was a clatter of chairs at the back as the Kerpens stood and got out their instruments. “And my own brother, Wolfi, playing the organ.”

  She pulled the parts from the pages of the Eckhardt book and passed them out to the Kerpens as they walked to the front. She showed Franz Kerpen the duet part in the last movement. Then she grabbed Wolfi’s violin and gave them an A to tune up, just as the concertmaster of the Mannheim orchestra had done. She was running down a hill and there was no way she could stop now. She lifted the scroll of the violin for the upbeat and they were off.

  She loved the feel of the wood against her neck, and the way her bow sank into the string and pulled out notes like shiny rocks from the sand. But even more, she loved the way all the different melodies swirled around her; the trills like sweets from the Baron Kerpen’s flute, the distant thunder of Wolfi’s organ, the violins and the cello and the clavier like wind, mixing it all together.

  Nannerl stood with Franz for the violin duet in the finale and closed her eyes as she played. She didn’t care if she was playing for the King and Queen of France or the beggars at Nôtre Dame; it was this music spilling out from inside her that mattered. She listened to Franz’ violin…it sounded different, somehow. She opened her eyes and saw that he was standing back and that Sopherl had taken his place! She had come after all! Their violins danced together by the light of the Wasserburg moon, sang out from the tops of fountains and hedges, jumped through the air, and landed with the final note of the symphony on top of the Salzburg mountains.

  It seemed to Nannerl that the crowd was silent for hours. Then a man near the back stood and clapped and shouted bravo! The audience rose suddenly like a huge wave. The cheers and applause filled Nannerl’s ears until she thought they would burst. She noticed Mama clapping with a little smile and Papa…Papa came forward with tears in the corners of his eyes.

  The audience was soon milling about, chatting and calling for coats. The queen and the king’s daughters came over and kissed Nannerl and Wolfi and laughingly gave Nannerl a heavy toothpick case of solid gold and a tortoiseshell snuffbox and Wolfi a gold snuffbox and a tiny gold watch. Sopherl came to give Nannerl a big hug.

  “How can I thank you?” asked Nannerl.

  “No, it’s you that I thank,” she answered. She took Nannerl’s arm and led her back to the clavier.

  “Play something with me? There’s a little farewell tune the Elector and I used to play at Nymphenburg, at the end of our evenings of music-making—” Sopherl began to play softly.

  Nannerl listened closely. It was as if the violin were Sopherl’s real voice, her speaking voice just a foreign language she was forced to use sometimes. It was a simple tune, just a few sentences, and after listening for a while, Nannerl got out Wolfi’s violin and started to play. The din in the room began to quiet. Out of the corner of her e
ye, Nannerl could see people sitting back down in their chairs.

  After a few rounds of the tune Nannerl started adding notes, thanking Sopherl for the violin lesson and for playing in her symphony. Sopherl answered back with a quick little scale, like a laugh. Nannerl held the end note a little longer to ask Sopherl a question, and a clavier joined in.

  The audience had stopped talking. The hall was quiet, everyone listening to the small group at the front. A cello joined, and some more violins. Nannerl looked around and saw that the Kerpens and Wolfi and even Papa were playing the sad, slow tune around and around them. A circle of music—and she and Sopherl played in the middle of it.

  Nannerl didn’t want it to end. But after a while she felt a tug. She knew she would have to say good-bye, the way she’d said good-bye to Katherl and the Salzburg mountains, to Charlotte in Coblenz, to each inn and palace and clock and church. She played one last note for Sopherl and let her bow come to a stop on the string.

  The audience burst into applause. Nannerl bowed and then looked over at Sopherl. She just smiled—her eyes were still a bit sad and secret—and packed up her violin. People were starting to come forward with congratulations. Sopherl gave Nannerl’s hand one last squeeze and before anyone could stop her, quietly left the room.

  Nannerl wanted to run after her, make her stop and play some more music. But something in her said that wouldn’t work. She would just have to wait. Some day she’d meet Sopherl again, maybe in another symphony.

  “I wonder where that haunting tune came from?” Charlotte was saying, as the Kerpens and even Herr Bach crowded around to talk about the symphony and Sopherl’s melody. The adults talked and talked. Nannerl began to feel her eyelids droop. She wanted to curl up in front of a fire and sleep for days and days.

  At last it was time to leave. When she, Mama, Wolfi, and Papa finally walked through the big doors of the music hall into the Christmas night, the sleet had turned to snow: Nannerl felt a big, wet flake on her forehead.