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 amusements--playing at
bowls and billiards. The latter sport, by the way, has been among the
favoured amusements 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
Schoenbrunn for the Emperor, and he charmed the officers so much that
the whole Mozart family baggage was passed 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 assured 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 circumstances,
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 l