Operas Every Child Should Know Part 29

"Desert my soldiers?" he asked, in a frightened voice. "I have led others into danger--dare I desert them?"

"Thy mother demands it: it is the only way to right thy wrongdoing.

The blessing of G.o.d will only then descend upon thee." The Prophet, overwhelmed by her command, opened his arms to Heaven as a sign that he would obey, and Faith threw herself upon his breast.

Now Bertha, utterly distracted by her troubles, had disguised herself as a pilgrim, and in her madness she had determined to set fire to the stores of wood beneath the palace. She found her way into the dungeon just as John and his mother were embracing. As the iron doors were heard to open again, John turned around and saw a woman enter. As she saw John she cried bitterly:

"Behold the Prophet!" Both John and Faith cried out upon recognizing her voice.

"Now, let us perish together!" Bertha said, wildly, approaching John.

Then suddenly recognizing him she stifled a scream:

"Thou! the Prophet is thou? My G.o.d, my G.o.d! Then let us perish now!"

She stared in horror at the man she loved, who was also the man she had cursed and despised--the famous Prophet.

"Oh, my child, speak low, speak low!" Faith implored, looking anxiously toward the iron door. "Abandon thy hate. I have found my son. He will do right. Have pity upon him," the old mother pleaded.

Bertha looking at him, felt all the love of her heart enfold him again. The madness died out her eyes.

"Yes. Let us not hate. Let us curse no more. Far from this dread city, we three were to have been happy. Yes, I love thee still; but still thou art the infamous man whom I have cursed. Since I love thee, let this atone for thee," and before he could answer, she had plunged a dagger into her heart and fallen dead at his feet.

Then John summoned the guard. He no longer cared to live. The officer of the guard, who was faithful to him, told him, when he entered, of the plot to give him over to the Emperor, while the coronation feast was in progress.

"Very well. I am satisfied. Do thou take my mother to a place of safety. I shall be at the feast," he said significantly. Embracing his mother, he handed her into the care of the astonished guard, and left the dungeon.

Nothing could have been more magnificent than the banquet prepared for the coronation. The tables were loaded with golden dishes, and young women pa.s.sed, scattering flowers, while pages in gay dress ran hither and thither. There, John entered, and sat apart, as had been arranged.

He was pale and sad. All was gaiety about him, but he had prepared an awful fate for his betrayers. In the vaults of the palace were stored powder and firearms of all sorts. Just above those vaults was the banqueting room, which had great iron gates closed at one end. The company could only leave the room by those gates. John of Leyden had brought two officers whom he could trust into the hall with him, and unheard, he commanded them to close and lock the gates as soon as the Anabaptists Zacharia, Mathison, and Jonas, with Oberthal, the great power of Munster and the Bishops--all who were his enemies and to whom the Anabaptists meant to betray him--were a.s.sembled.

Then the feast began. All hailed the Prophet in loud voices, pretending great affection and faith in him. In the midst of a dance by which the guests were entertained, Faith, whom he thought quite safe, entered. She knew what he had done--that he meant to blow up the palace by firing the vaults below, and she had determined to die with her son. The Prophet had not yet seen her.

The Anabaptists and John's enemies spoke apart, and John watched them cynically. He knew well what they intended, and that he had them trapped.

"Now close the gates," he said in a low voice to his officers. "Lock them." He had not seen his mother. When the gates were closed, he turned smilingly to the company. He called for wine.

"Let us drink!" he cried. Then Oberthal rose and shouted:

"Thou art mine, great Prophet! Surrender thyself." Still the Prophet smiled at them. Jonas then cried:

"Yes, thou tyrant--thou art betrayed. We have thee fast! Surrender!"

"Oh, ye poor creatures," he answered. "Listen! do ye hear nothing?"

Still smiling upon them, as they stared at him, they heard a strange rumbling below. The train he had laid to blow up the palace had fired the powder.

"Thy time has come!" John of Leyden cried, and the vast hall began to fill with smoke and powder fumes. Riot reigned, and just at that moment Faith, her gray hair streaming about her, pushed through the crowd and threw herself into her son's arms. He gave a great cry of agony.

"Mother! Thou art here?"

"To die with thee, my son!" she shrieked, and with a roar the palace fell about their ears.

MOZART

It is not at all probable that anything so ridiculous as the "Magic Flute" story was ever before written. It might have been the concerted effort of Artemus Ward, Theodore Hook, Bill Nye, and Mark Twain. But an effort at coherence must be made in the putting together of this story, because the opera is, above all things, one that every man, woman, and child should know. Mozart's lovely music could not be ruined, even by this story.

It has been said that the "Magic Flute" might have had some Masonic significance. That is quite likely, on the ground that it has no other significance whatever.

This opera proves one thing beyond a doubt: That Mozart could have written beautiful music with the New York Directory for a theme.

Rossini summed up Mozart very properly: "Who is the greatest musician in the world?" some one asked him. "Beethoven," Rossini answered. "But what about Mozart?" "Well, you see, Mozart is the _only_ musician in the world," he answered, allowing of no comparisons! And he is the only one, yet, to some of us!

That he was a man of the most fascinating temper cannot be doubted, when one reads his memoirs. He was without any financial judgment. He could make money, but he couldn't keep it. There is a story ill.u.s.trating the dominance of his heart over his head, told in connection with an offer of patronage from the King of Prussia. At that time Mozart was Emperor Leopold's musician, and when he went to Leopold to offer his resignation and take advantage of the better arrangement which the Prussian King had offered, Leopold said urgently: "But, Mozart, you surely are not going to forsake me?" "No, of course not," Mozart answered hastily. "May it please your Majesty, I shall remain." When his friends asked him if he had not been wise enough to make some demand to his own advantage at such a time, he answered in amazement: "Why, who could do such a thing--at such a time?"

His sentiment was charming, his character fascinating. He married Constance Weber, herself a celebrated person. She was never tired of speaking and writing of her husband. It was she who told of his small, beautifully formed hands, and of his favourite amus.e.m.e.nts--playing at bowls and billiards. The latter sport, by the way, has been among the favoured amus.e.m.e.nts of many famous musicians; Paderewski is a great billiard player.

As a little child, Mozart had a father who "put him through," so to speak, he being compelled to play, and play and play, from the time he was six years old. At that age he drew the bow across his violin while standing in the custom-house at Vienna, on the way to play at Schonbrunn for the Emperor, and he charmed the officers so much that the whole Mozart family baggage was pa.s.sed free of tax. While at the palace he was treated gorgeously, and among the Imperial family at that time was Marie Antoinette, then a young and gay princess. The young princesses treated little Wolfgang Mozart like a brother, and when he stumbled and fell in the drawing room, it happened to be Antoinette who picked him up. "Oh, you are good, I shall marry you!"

he a.s.sured her. On that occasion the Mozart family received the sum of only forty pounds for his playing, with some additions to the family wardrobe thrown in.

Most composers have had favourite times and seasons for work--in bed, with a heap of sausages before them, or while out walking. Beethoven used to pour cold water over his hands till he soaked off the ceiling of the room below; in short, most musicians except Mozart had some surprising idiosyncrasy. He needed even no instrument when composing music. He could enjoy a game of bowls, sitting and making his MS.

while the game was in progress, and leaving his work to take his turn.

He was not strong, physically, and was often in poor circ.u.mstances, but wherever he was there was likely to be much excitement and gaiety.

He would serenely write his music on his knee, on his table, wherever and however he chanced to be; and was most at ease when his wife was telling him all the gossip of the day while he worked. After all, that is the true artist. Erraticalness is by no means the thing that makes a man great, though he sometimes becomes great in spite of it, but for the most part it is carefully cultivated through conceit.

Mozart's burial was probably the most extraordinary commentary on fame and genius ever known. The day he was buried, it was stormy weather and all the mourners, few enough to start with, had dropped off long before the graveyard was reached. He was to be buried third cla.s.s, and as there had already been two pauper funerals that day, a midwife's, and another's, Mozart's body was to be placed on top. No one was at the grave except the a.s.sistant gravedigger and his mother.

"Who is it?" the mother asked.

"A bandmaster," the hea.r.s.e driver answered.

"Well, Gott! there isn't anything to be expected then. So hurry up!"

Thus the greatest of musical geniuses was done with this world.

Germany has given us the greatest musicians, but she leaves other people to take care of them, to love them, and to bury them--or to leave them go "third-cla.s.s."

THE MAGIC FLUTE

CHARACTERS OF THE OPERA

Queen of the Night.

Pamina (Queen's daughter).

Papagena.

Three ladies of the Queen's Court.

Three Genii of the Temple.

Tamino, an Egyptian Prince.

Monostatos, a Moor in the service of Sarastro.

Sarastro, High Priest of the Temple.

Papageno, Tamina's servant.