A Visit in 1914 to the House where Mozart was Born

(Photograph of the inner courtyard within the Mozart Geburtshaus taken by Jeffrey Johnson in 2010.)



Harriette Brower (1854-1928) wrote an article for The Etude Music Magazine (1883-1957) in January 1914 about a trip that she took to visit Salzburg. The museum opened in 1880, but written accounts of visits to the geburtshaus in English are not as common as one might suspect. Harriette writes an engaging article about her visit. She writes in motion; recording observations like a video camera that translates into words. She brings us to the house by crossing the river and walking through town. Like much of her writing it is saturated in charm:


"Let us turn our steps toward the old part of the town, and cross the river by the wide city bridge. Stop a moment in the centre and glance down at the shallow, pale green Salzach, as it hurries over its rocky bed. Look up the river and see how the mountains seem to close in, sloping down to the water’s edge; note the fine promenades, shaded by double rows of thick chestnut trees, on each side of the river; while hack of them rise most picturesque old buildings. Then lift your eyes to the great fortress of Hohe Salzburg—-a more formidable pile of rock and masonry than the old Burg at Nuremberg—-and you can make for yourself a general outline of the picture.

"Now we will proceed to the end of the bridge, and at once you are in the old part of Salzburg. Before you runs the narrow, busy street called the Getreide Gasse. The houses are all about four stories high, not including the street floor. Some of them look ancient, others have been modernized, few are of recent build. Each house has its shop, on the ground floor; and what curious little shops they are, with every kind of article for sale. Carved wood, glassware, shoes, pictures, postcards and Mozart mementos everywhere. Turn to the right now, and walk along this quaint thoroughfare. Perhaps business signs will catch your eye at first; some of them are very unusual. One, which belongs to a gold-beater’s shop, is really very handsome. A great golden eagle holding a wreath of green olive leaves in his beak. Many of these houses have narrow passages, dark and stony, running through them to the river on the other side. Pass along this street a short distance till you reach a small square—-Haganau Platz it is called.

"Look up at the third floor of the house facing this small square, and you will see the magic words 'Mozarts Geburtshaus.' Here, then, was the birthplace of one of the greatest composers who ever lived. The great, wide house doors stand wide open: they are of massive wood, covered with iron, to preserve them, and are painted black. Large brass handles are in the center of each--a lion’s head holding a ring--formed of a coiled serpent, in his mouth.

"Three flights of narrow stone stairs bring us to the right landing. How dark it all is here--though there are one or two openings letting in a few rays of light from the court at the back. We ring, an attendant opens, and we stand within the very room where Mozart was born. In the farther corner stood the cradle: the space is now occupied by a fine bust of the composer decorated with green. There is only one window, looking out to the court. Beyond, a glimpse can be caught of one of the square towers of the old University Church, perhaps the most picturesque in Salzburg."

[The prior two sentences describe the view in the photograph at the top of this page].

"The walls of this little room are hung with family portraits and mementos. Here is a large painting of Leopold Mozart and his family—-his wife and two children. Here are several portraits of Mozart as a child of six, ten and twelve years; in one of which he is veritably the “Little Prince.” Here, too, is a painting of Mozart’s two sons--it seems he had seven children—-the others, however, died in infancy. This portrait is an ideal one--the boys have very spirituelle faces. There are also likenesses of the sons when grown to manhood. At one side of the room is the tiny spinet on which the little wonder-child practiced; at the opposite side stands the harpsichord on which he used to give concerts.

"The attendant assured us the wooden floor was the veritable floor on which the Mozart’s trod--that it had not been renewed. The tall green porcelain stove was also the same they had used.

"The front room leading from this is much larger, almost twice the size. It was doubtless the general living room of the family; its four windows look out on the Getreide Gasse. The Mozarts surely made music in this room, and if the walls could but speak, what thrilling, inspiring stories they might tell Perhaps here is where little Wolfgang, at five, wrote and played for his family and friends those dainty menuettes which have come down to us. Fourteen portraits of the composer hang about the room. Here is a quaint little safe, not five feet long, some odd old chairs and a handsome inlaid cabinet, all of which had belonged to the family. The cabinet holds a complete collection of the composer’s works. The Mozarts were certainly in comfortable circumstances there are no traces of the touching poverty found in the early homes of Beethoven, Brahms and Schubert.

"A small front chamber, connecting with the large one, now contains a fine model of the new Mozarteum, the concert hall and conservatory, which are now being constructed through the efforts of the Mozart societies. There were probably several other rooms in the apartment, but only these three are shown, the remainder being reserved for the caretaker. What we saw filled us with tender reverence for the gifted man and gratitude that the place where he lived and worked as a child has been preserved intact till to-day."

Thinking Theodore Presser; a Regular Guy and his Bear

The Etude Music Magazine (1883-1957) was a significant was a source of support for music teachers and an outlet for composers, teachers and educators for 74 years. In 2003 I created an edition of piano lessons in the grand style originally published in The Etude.

Many people are unaware that the Theodore Presser publishing company developed from The Etude Music Magazine (1883-1957). Those who were aware of this may be surprised to discover that Presser once owned a pet bear, loved flowers, and "was a delight to see" at football games.

Theodore Presser (1848-1925) was a character, and three months after his death in October 1925, the Etude dedicated part of the January 1926 edition to his memory. An article by William Roberts Tilford gives insight into the quirks that made his personality colorful:

"Like most men of large accomplishments he possessed an uncanny capacity for work. During the forty-three years he was engaged in music publishing, no man in his business equalled him in this respect. [...] For years, after a severe day’s labor at his business, he would take home great bundles of work and spend his evenings investigating manuscripts, signing checks, auditing bills, and so on. [...]

"This capacity for work, combined with his great determination and strong will, became an excess in his last days. His best friends and counsellors found it impossible to prevent him from doing things which were obviously injurious and liable to shorten his life. In order to get physical exercise, he persisted in sawing heavy logs, clearly a dangerous exertion for a man of seventy-seven with an uncertain heart. He never rode when he could walk, and only in his very last years could he be persuaded to use the elevator except when a climb was too high. [...]
He was at his office four days before his passing; and only a few hours before his death he was struggling valiantly in behalf of a plan he had to help the teacher of music.

"Many of those who for years had known of the enormous accomplishments of Theodore Presser were surprised when they met him.; and often they would exclaim, 'Is that really Theodore Presser?' This was largely because of his great simplicity. He hated affectation and complexity of any kind. A bombastic person amused him greatly. Few men have ever retained so little of their worldly goods during their lifetime and given away so much. He had a fine home in Germantown [Pennsylvania] adjoining the far more expensive building he erected for retired music teachers. For a man of his means he lived very simply and without ostentation. In his business house he lunched daily with his employees, making little distinction between them as to their position in the business. [...]

"While unostentatious, he was extremely social and dreaded to be without congenial company and companions. A conventional, old fashioned picnic to the woods gave him far more delight than anything that pretended to be formal, and a hike with a group of boys was a special diversion. In a small group he was an extremely animated conversationalist and enjoyed humor immensely. He dreaded public speaking; and although, when inspired, he could make a very excellent talk upon subjects in which he was interested, he had a fear of audiences and frequently confined himself to notes.

"He had a habit of expressing himself in a peculiar and emphatic manner which he understood perfectly himself, but which was often misinterpreted by others. This sometimes led to misunderstandings in later years, and to the sacrifice of friends, which pained him greatly. It thus often became necessary for those who did understand him to interpret his meaning; and this he appreciated greatly if accurate, but detested when it became apparent to him that he was in the least falsely interpreted. [...]

"His love for animals was very great and he looked forward to the end of the day when his little dog would romp joyously to greet him. At different times he possessed many kinds of animals—-crows, parrots, rabbits, pheasants—-and he once acquired a bear which he kept until it became too strong for any domestic confines. He gave the bear away and shortly after the beast was found strangled at the end of his chain. Mr. Presser always insisted that the bear committed suicide because he had lost a good home. He reproached himself for giving the animal to others, who, he feared, had been unkind to it.

"Flowers were a passion with him, and his gardens and greenhouse were a constant source of delight. Every new and rare plant was a treasure. He continually wrote to distant points for new specimens. Once, when returning from a trip to Bermuda, I brought him a small collection of tropical plants. His reception of the plants so overwhelmed him that he quite forgot the donor.

"In sports he retained to his very last days the naive enthusiasm of a child. At a football game he was a delight to see. He frequently attended professional baseball games and his usual inquiry at the end of the day was, 'What’s the score ?' He enjoyed playing games himself and eagerly hunted companions to play with him.