REGINA SCHLICK, wife of a noted German Violoncellist and Composer, was celebrated under her maiden name of Sacchi, as well as afterwards, for her performance on the violin. She was born at Mantua in 1764, and received her musical education at the _Conservatorio della Pietà_, at Venice. She afterwards passed some years at Paris. This lady was a particular friend of Mozart’s, and, being in Vienna, about the year 1786, solicited the great composer to write something for their joint performance at her concert. With his usual kindness, Mozart promised to comply with her request, and, accordingly, composed and arranged in his mind the beautiful Sonata for the piano and violin, in B flat minor, with its solemn adagio introduction. But it was necessary to go from _mind_ to _matter_—that is, to put the combined ideas into visible form, in the usual way. The destined day approached, and not a note was committed to paper! The anxiety of Madame Schlick became excessive, and, at length, the earnestness of her entreaties was such, that Mozart could no longer procrastinate. But his favorite and seductive game of billiards came in the way; and it was only the very evening before the concert, that he sent her the manuscript, in order that she might study it by the following afternoon. Happy to obtain the treasure, though so late, she scarcely quitted it for a moment’s repose. The concert commenced: the Court was present, and the rooms were crowded with the rank and fashion of Vienna. The sonata began; the composition was beautiful, and the execution of the two artists perfect in every respect. The audience was all rapture—the applause enthusiastic: but there was one distinguished personage in the room, whose enjoyment exceeded that of all the other auditors—the Emperor Joseph II, who, in his box, just over the heads of the performers, using his opera-glass to look at Mozart, perceived that there was nothing upon his music-desk but a sheet of white paper! At the conclusion of the concert, the Emperor beckoned Mozart to his box, and said to him, in a half-whisper, “So, Mozart, you have once again trusted to chance!”—“Yes, your Majesty,” replied the composer, with a smile that was half triumph and half confusion. Had Mozart—not _studied_—but merely _played over_, this music _once_ with the lady, it would not have been so wonderful: but he had never even heard the Sonata _with_ the violin[68].