A TEST OF PRECOCITY

The young Mozart may not have been the most extreme prodigy in history, but he was one of the rare ones whose early brilliance didn’t burn out or disappoint. His musical life kept growing—steadily, continuously.

Wild stories were told about him, and some were surely exaggerated. But whenever Mozart or his parents made a claim about what he could do, he could back it up.

The Archbishop of Salzburg had it in his power to change the future of music by giving Mozart proper patronage. He refused. Worse, he insisted the boy was a fraud—and announced he would expose him “for the good of art and religion.”

His plan was simple: lock the child in a closed room with pens, ink, paper, and the necessary text, and keep him there until he produced a complete Mass.

Mozart and his father agreed—because they knew the boy could do it.

For more than a week Mozart remained shut in that room, seeing nobody except the servant who brought his meals. At the end of the ordeal he sent the Archbishop the finished Mass. It was tried by the court band, and the Archbishop ordered it to be added to the cathedral choir’s repertoire.

And even after that unmistakable proof, the prelate still failed to become the kind of appreciative patron Mozart—and music history—deserved.