recitative suitable to the introduction of a
love song. He then shaped out a
symphony, to correspond to an air composed to
the single word "Affetto." It was a
complete formal operatic composition, with
first and second parts, and of the usual
length. "If this extemporary composition,"
afterwards wrote the astonished investigator,
"were not amazingly capital, yet it
was really above mediocrity, and showed
most extraordinary readiness of invention."

The inspiration was upon the boy, and
he was now eager to try more. Mr.
Barrington begged him to compose a song on
Rage, such as might be proper for an
opera. The boy again turned, gave his
playfully mischievous changeling look, and
began a jargon recitative, to precede a
song of fury "i' the Ercles vein." He
roused to this, and, his imagination
becoming excited, he beat his harpsichord with
his little ruffled fists, rising up in his
chair like a person possessed. The word
he had chosen for this more violent
exercise was "Perfido;" a word suitable for
arousing all sorts of operatic
denunciations.

After this, never wearied, he played
one of the sonatas he had just finished
and dedicated to the queen. It was very
difficult to work out with minuteness and
vigour, considering that his little fingers
could scarcely reach a fifth on the
harpsichord. This was not practice but genius,
Mr. Barrington at once discovered; for he
saw that the child had long since mastered
all the fundamental rules of composition,
and that as soon as a treble was produced,
he could sit down and write a bass under
it. The child—for a child Barrington also
felt bound to acknowledge him, whatever
his real age might be—was a great master
of modulation. His transitions from one
key to another were as natural as they were
judicious; and he would sometimes practise
them for fun, with a handkerchief thrown
over the keys of the harpsichord.

While the boy was achieving these
wonders, Mr. Barrington, leaning on the back
of his chair with his hand to his mouth,
secretly resolved to quietly write to Count
Haslang, envoy extraordinary and minister
plenipotentiary of the Electors of Bavaria
and Palatine, to get the register of the
boy's birth from Salzburg. A sudden
dash of the harpsichord keys roused Mr.
Barrington. A favourite cat of the child's
had just slid in at the open door, and the
boy had leaped down from his chair to play
with it, and was not for some time to be
won back—not then indeed until he had
taken a gallop round the room on his
father's walking stick.

Mr. Barrington's suspicions as to the
age of the wonderful child were not
confirmed. In due time, Leopold Comprecht,
chaplain of the Prince Archbishop of
Salzburg, sent to Count Haslang, the Bavarian
ambassador before mentioned, a copy of the
certificate of the birth of Johann Chrysostom
Wolfgang Theophilus Mozart, son of
the prince's organist, on January 17, 1756.
The genius was therefore only eight years
and five months old, when he astonished
Mr. Barrington. That gentleman thereupon
drew up a paper, "an account of a
very remarkable young musician," which
was read before the Royal Society,
November 28, 1769.

In this brief paper the amiable quidnunc
mentioned that Mozart since leaving
England had composed some admirable
oratorios, and that the Prince of Salzburg,
suspecting some imposition, had shut up
the child once for a whole week, leaving
him only blank music paper and the words
of an oratorio. During all this time Mozart
saw no one but his gaoler, who brought
him food.

The writer then adduces several
instances of precocious genius, particularly
the case of John Barretier, a German
prodigy, who mastered Latin at four,
Hebrew at six, and three other languages
by the time he was nine: translating at
eleven the travels of Rabbi Benjamin, and
adding notes and dissertations. Mr.
Barrington further alludes to the precocity of
Handel, who at seven began to play on the
clavichord, who composed church services at
nine, and the opera of Almeria at fourteen.
The worthy virtuoso concludes by trusting
that Mozart might reach the age of Handel,
contrary to the common observation that
precocious genius is shortlived.  I think
I may say," he adds, "without prejudice to
the memory of the great composer, that the
scale most clearly preponderates on the side
of Mozart in this comparison, as I have
already stated that he was a composer
when he did not much exceed the age of
four. Lest, however, I should insensibly
become too strongly his panegyrist, permit
me to subscribe myself, sir, your most faithful,
humble servant, DAINES BARRINGTON."

In spite of great success, England did
not, however, prove propitious to the
Mozarts. The king and queen were fond
of music, but were fonder of money. The
receipts of the concerts diminished, and,
worst of all, the expenses of the year
amounted to three hundred pounds: a