Mozart's Sister (5 page)

Papa sighed with relief. "So it's not smallpox," he said to the
doctor. "The Hagenauers had smallpox and I was afraid-"

"Not smallpox." The doctor patted Wolfie's forehead with a
damp cloth.

"But his legs," Mama said. "He is swollen and paralyzed from
his knees to his toes."

"That will pass," the doctor said.

As we watched, Wolfie thrashed his head back and forth and
moaned. Oh, that it was I who was sick! I was stronger than he was.
I would not have let myself be sick so long.

The doctor motioned Mama and Papa to the door where I was
standing. I moved into the hall to give them room and was glad they
did not shoo inc away

"He has rheumatic fever."

Mama put a hand to her mouth. "Will he recover?"

The doctor lifted his shoulders, then dropped them. "Unfortunately, the illness often produces a weakened heart that may permanently affect him ... plus, he may be susceptible to this disease all
his life."

All his life? I wanted my brother well; I wanted him pulling my
hair, making me climb after him under the furniture. I wanted to
play music with him. We were a team. The Wunderkinder-the
miracle children. I was half without his whole.

The doctor gave Mama a paper packet of powder. "Give him
this and keep him comfortable. I'll be back tomorrow"

Mania and Papa showed the doctor out, leaving me alone with
my brother. Although they'd told me to stay away, I couldn't. Not
when he looked so small in the bed. He was smaller than most sixyear-olds-which was to our advantage while performing. But now,
sick in bed ... I wished him large and strong. I moved beside him
and dipped the cloth in the water and wrung it out just as I'd seen
Mania do. I placed it on his forehead.

He opened his eyes. He smiled. "Horseface ..."

"I'm here, Wolfie. I'll always be here."

He managed a nod, then closed his eyes.

One thing would never change. He was my brother. Forever and
always.

Papa was now the assistant conductor. The Vice Kapellmeister.

The table for our party was set with bread, cheese, meat, and
cake. The apartment was crowded with guests, including my friend Katherl. There were members from Papa's orchestra present, and
some of Mama's friends from church. I wondered-but I did not
ask-if Archbishop Schrattenbach himself would come. When
we'd first returned from Vienna nearly eight weeks previous, he
was peeved at Papa for being gone so long but seemed pleased
with us now. When Wolfie and I played for him earlier that
evening-February 28, which was his birthday-he patted our
heads and called us special children who were bringing honor to
Salzburg.

I didn't know about honor, but Papa and Mama were proud,
and that was enough.

One of the musicians offered a toast. "To Vice Kapellmeister
Mozart! May his direction be inspired, may our music transcend
earthly bounds, and may his patience be bestowed by the very
realms of heaven."

Everyone laughed and Katherl and I did too, even though we
weren't sure about the joke. Katherl and I snuck food and whispered
about whose dress we liked better (Frau Kraus wore my favorite: a
pale blue satin with tiny bows like a ladder up the front.) Yet that
sport soon paled and we escaped to the bedchamber. I had something important I wanted to tell her.

We sat on the window seat and I gave her an extra shawl against
the draft. "So?" she asked. "What's the big secret?"

I glanced at the door one last time. "Papa is planning to take
Wolfie and me on a Grand Tour."

"What's that?" Katherl asked.

"We're traveling to Paris, to London, then to Venice ..." I took
a fresh breath. "And maybe even to Rome."

"To play?"

I nodded. "We've been practicing very hard. Papa's even had
Wolfie practice the violin."

"When did he start playing violin?"

"Just a few weeks ago. When Papa and his quartet were practicing here, Wolfie asked to play second violin. Papa told him no, he
didn't want his chicken-scratching to interfere with their rehearsal.
But Wolfie wept and had such a fit that the second violinist told
Papa he didn't mind. So Papa gave his permission but told Wolfie to play quietly. Wolfie took up his tiny violin and proceeded to play
with the group-well enough that the second violinist stopped his
own playing in amazement. No one had taught Wolfie how to play.
It was a miracle. I was watching from the hall and I saw Papa cry."

"Are you playing violin too?"

The instrument didn't interest me. But I thought of something
else I could brag about. "I've been singing more"

Katherl drew her knees to her chest and tucked her dress around
her shoes. "Those cities you mentioned ... I can't imagine going to
places like that."

"Papa is making arrangements for us to play at Versailles, before
King Louis the Fifteenth."

"Who's he?"

I wasn't surprised she didn't know. If not for our travels and all
the teaching Mama and Papa did while we were in the carriages, I
might not have known. "He's like our empress, but he rules France.
And we hope to play before royalty in London too. Papa and Mama
have been working very hard to arrange it."

"But why is it a secret?"

I leaned toward her and whispered. "The archbishop would
need to give us permission. And now, with Papa's new position ..

"Oh." Katherl put a hand to her mouth.

"Papa already fears the archbishop suspects. We've needed to get
letters of introduction and . . ." I shrugged.

"But if he knows, why did he give your father the promotion?"

I'd never thought of that. "Maybe the archbishop wants Papa to
have a tide 'the Vice Kapelhneister of Salzburg'-so people will
know we're from Salzburg, that we belong to him."

"Belong to him. That doesn't sound like a pretty position."

It didn't, but I was learning it was the way of the world. "We
must have support, benefactors, money"

"This is too odd. People of power coming to see you, to hear
you...

"And Wolfie."

Katherl shook her head. "Your little brat of a brother."

"He's very talented. People say so all the time."

"What do they say about you?"

I thought back to our trip to Vienna and Hungary. The
applause, the smiles, the compliments. Wolfie had gotten most of
the attention, yet I'd received my share.

"Nannerl? What do they say about you?"

"They say I'm greatly skilled at the keyboard and that my talent
at accompanying is extraordinary." I was not lying. Such things had
been said.

Katherl again drew up her knees. "But accompanying someone
else ... that's not very glamorous."

I resented her words. Katherl knew little about music, and for
her to minimize the skill that I needed in order to accompany
another musician ... "There is much more to playing the clavier
than playing written music. Do you realize with accompanying there
is often nothing written out but the bass line-the left hand? There
might be a few notations as to a suggested harmony, but it is up to
me to fill in the music, at the proper volume, style, and harmony for
the soloist-often instantly. I've heard it said that Bach questioned
whether the soloist or the accompanist deserves the greatest glory.
And Papa told me that women often play better than men because
they are more sensitive to the needs of the music, and-"

Katherl laughed and held up her hands, stopping my words. "I
give up. I give in. I was mistaken. Enough. Enough"

I felt my face redden. I hadn't meant to get so emotional. I was
agreeable to Wolfie learning the violin and with the accolades he
received. After all, Papa was taking both of us on the Grand Tour.
He loved me just as much as he loved-

Suddenly the door opened. "Boo!" Wolfie jumped into the
room, his hands curled into claws. His mouth was dirty with cake
crumbs.

"You're a mess, brother."

He ran a finger along his lips, looked at it, then licked it clean.
"I came to tell you someone brought a new cake. An apricot torte.
If you don't hurry, I'm going to eat it all myselfl"

And he was gone. I heard his feet pounding down the stairs.

I stood. "Shall we?"

Katherl and I went downstairs, our elbows intertwined like two
ladies.

The daylight streamed through the window, and I angled my
body so the paper on the worktable suffered no shadows. Papa had
given me a music theory lesson, and I wanted to finish it before
dinner.

Wolfie sat at the clavier in the corner, practicing. I didn't recognize the piece. Apparently, neither did Mama because she looked
up from the pile of papers in her lap and said, "What song is that,
Wolferl?"

He didn't stop playing. "My own." He tilted his head back and
sang along with Fa-la-las, making his voice sound a harmony with
his fingers.

"As I've told you before, you need to write it down," Papa said.

Wolfie continued to play. "I'll remember."

Papa's voice became stern. "Write it down"

Wolfie stopped playing. "It's not my tune. It's Haydn's. I just
made it better."

"Don't be impertinent," Mama said.

"I thought I recognized the basic tune," Papa said. "And I agree.
It is better." He pointed at me. "Nannerl, bring your brother some
paper." Then to Wolfie he said, "You write it down. But remember,
I want you to continue writing your own music. Original music."

I brought him a piece of staffed paper. He curled it over his head
like a bonnet and giggled.

"Wolfgang!" Papa said.

Wolfie slipped off the bench and lay on his stomach on the floor.
His legs were bent at the knee, in constant motion.

Papa pointed to my place by the window. "The table, young
man. I will not have you using quill and ink on your mother's rug.
Nannerl, make room."

I scooted over but didn't want to. I'd never be able to concentrate with him sharing the table. It was hard enough to work with
Papa and Mama talking about the details of the Grand Tour. Letters of credit and introduction, lodging arrangements, discussions of
which music and clothing to pack for all possible occasions. I
wanted to help plan too.

Wolfie sat in the chair across from me, placing the sheet of staff
paper directly on top of my work. I moved it. He moved it back.

I saw Papa hold a map between himself and Mama. He pointed
to a city. "I would like to winter in Paris the first year."

The first year?

"Why Paris?" Mama asked.

"Because there will be plenty of money to be earned there.
Travel is easier in the warm months, but during that time much of
the nobility leave for their summer palaces, wreaking havoc on concert life. So we must plan to be in town when they are."

Mama lifted a list from her lap. "And I've made a listing of the
special days of celebration at all the courts. Our patrons tend to be
more generous at such times."

Papa smiled. "Especially if we can perform on their name day."

Mama pointed to the list. Apparently, she'd already noted such
things. My name day was coming up soon. Actually, since Mama
and I shared the given names Maria and Anna, we also shared the
same day of celebration. St. Anne's day was July 26.

Papa sat back and perused the map with a sigh. "It's imperative
we be organized."

Mama put a hand on his arm. "You are nothing if not that, dear
one.

They were a good pair and worked together well. I wanted to
have such a marriage someday. Perhaps after making a name for
myself as a musician.

Wolfie kicked me under the table, then made a funny face.

Traveling with Mama and Papa would be fun, but traveling with
my little brother-for over a year? I prayed God would give me
patience. A double dose.

I had little concept of the depth and breadth of the details for our
trip, our Grand Tour of Europe. What I heard Papa and Mania say
about lodging, horses, routes, and venues was noted but neatly discarded with a certainty that someone was handling what needed to
be handled. Papa said adjustments would have to be made according
to weather, opportunity, and the cooperation-or noncooperation-of our concert patrons. Yet how did one plan for a trip that
would take years? Yes, years. For the "one year" I'd heard mentioned
had been extended to many. To think I would start the journey as a
child within a month of my twelfth birthday and wouldn't return
until I was a young woman.... It scared me, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. Papa knew best.