hat trimmed with gold lace on his head, and the chapel-master's staff in his hand. Thus equipped, he mounted a little platform, and began, at first in a grave and formal manner, but gradually becoming more and more genial and humorous, as he never could disguise his natural character. 66 MOZART'S SPEECH. "Respected Ladies and Gentlemen: It is known to you all, that I was honored last year with the flattering request from your Impressario, that I would compose an opera for his company. I complied with great pleasure, as I had the happiness of knowing you all, and was fully assured that I composed for true artists. "My work is finished; it is called Don Giovanni. I can testify for myself that I have endeavored faithfully to study the personality of each of the present members of this company, and that I had it in view in the composition of each separate part of the opera. "I have thus succeeded in creating a work, that forms not only a harmonious whole, but secures success in each part to the artist for whom it was composed. I believe my opera will please even in later years; that it will be called my best work, as I myself call it. But of one thing I am certain, that such a perfect representation as I expect from you, will never be seen again! "When will be found again such a Don Giovanni as my young friend Luigi Bassi? His superb figure, his wonderful voice, his deportment, his unfeigned fire when he pays homage to beauty, all qualify him eminently for the hero of my opera. Respecting his wickedness, I think he will not show more than is just necessary. That is enough; for my hero is no rude butcher, nor a vulgar malicious villian, but a fiery and passionate youth. "Could I oppose to him a more perfect Donna Anna than the beautiful, proud, and virtuous Saporetti? she will represent all the mixed feelings of hatred, love, revenge, and piety, in her song and in her acting-just as I conceived, I have painted them. "And who could represent the faithful, neglected, offended, and yet ever pardoning and loving Elvira, more touchingly than the charming, melancholy, gentle Catherine Micelli? She is the guardian angel of Don Giovanni, and leaves him only at his last moment. Ah, such an angel should convert me; for I am a great sinner, spite of my little insignificant figure! And now for the little, mischievous, inexperienced, curious Zerlina. "Ola ci dram la mano-Signoretta Bondini! Charming fairy, give me your hand. Pretty indeed you are, and will not refuse to take the part which suits nobody as well as yourself! "That dear Felice Ponziani is pleased with his Leporello, as well as the excellent first tenor, Antonio Baglioni, with his Don Octavio, makes me very happy. Signore Guiseppa Lolli will for my sake not refuse to take, besides the part of the Comthur, that of Masetto,-to have every part executed well! I thank him for his friendship and assistance. "And thus I close this speech so meet; With joy the evening will I greet, When my beloved Opera Through you appears in gloria! When master and singer are agreed, The whole appears both smooth and bright. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart." Thus concluded the great master his discourse; his hearers clapped applause; and all went home cheerful and satisfied. THE REHEARSAL. On the twenty-eighth of October, Don Giovanni being ready, except the overture, the rehearsal began. Early on the morning of the first rehearsal, as Mozart was walking, before he went to the Opera House, in the Volksgarten, he saw at no great distance the trumpeter Nepomuk Stradetzky, who appeared lost in deep meditation. Mozart hurried on, overtook him, and touched him gently on the shoulder. Nepomuk turned quickly, and asked rudely, "who is there?" but bowed almost to the ground as he recognized Mozart. “Ah!" said he, "I beg a thousand pardons, most honored Herr Von Mozart! I was deeply engaged in thinking, and supposed it some fool who wanted to joke with me-pardon me." "There is nothing to pardon!" replied Mozart; "no one likes to be interrupted in a reverie-I myself do not like it! But of what were you thinking, Herr Von Stradtezky?" With radiant face, Nepomuk replied: "Of what but your opera, most excellent Herr Von Mozart? Is not all Prague full of expectation of the wonder that is to appear? By my patron saint Nepomuk, wherever I go, I am asked: Herr Von Nepomuk, when will be the first representation? You blow the tenor trumpet, Herr Von Nepomuk-you certainly know all about it?" "No!" I reply, "I play the bass trumpet."] So, so!" they say then, "it is the bass trumpet, Herr Von Nepomuk." "Have you tried your part?" inquired Mozart. "To be sure, Herr Von Mozart! and I dwell with pleasure on the full and long tones; but in the two choruses are some very difficult notes." "Pshaw! you will get through them, Herr Von Nepomuk." "I hope so, Herr Von Mozart, and I will try my utmost." Thus chatting, both promenaded awhile in the pleasure grounds, and then went to the theatre. The rehearsal began. Mozart was everywhere! Now in the orchestra, now on the stage, directing or correcting. In the ball scene of the first act, where he was not satisfied with Bassi's dancing, he stepped himself among the dancers, and danced the minuetto with Zerlina with so much grace and dignity, as to do great credit to his teacher, Noverre. In like manner he succeeded in drawing from Zerlina her shriek for help, which she had not uttered according to his idea. Gliding softly behind her, he seized hold of her so violently, that she screamed aloud with fright; at which, he exclaimed, laughing,-" Bravo! that is just it! scream just so at the representation." The little good natured Bondini forgave him the terror he occasioned her; but not so kindly was another of his instructions received. In the second act, in the grave-yard scene, he had placed the three trumpeters behind a tomb, to increase the awful effect of the two adagios, which the statue has to sing. In the second adagio, the trumpeter blew wrong. Mozart cried," Again!" They did so, and this time the bass only failed. Mozart went to the desk, and patiently explained how the passage ought to be played; but Nepomuk, for it was he, made the same mistake at the third repetition. "The devil! Stradetzky!" cried Mozart, excited, and stamping with his foot, "You must play more correctly." Nepomuk, highly offended, grumbled in an angry tone, "My name is Herr Von Stradetzky, and I play what is possible to be played with the trumpet. What you have composed there, nobody could execute; and you can never drill it into me!" "Well," said Mozart, kindly, "it is now at any rate too late, and so I must change it." And he did so by altering the passage. In the chorus of the furies he had it sung under the stage, and permitted them not to appear to tear Don Juan from the precipice. "He is man enough not to let even the Devil call for him in vain," observed he, laughing. With the splendid chorus at the conclusion, the rehearsal ended. Mozart was pleased beyond expression with the singers and the orchestra, and the artists expected a brilliant success. As Mozart was returning home, Nepomuk followed him, took hold of a corner of his cloak, and said gently, "Be not vexed with me, Herr Von Mozart, that I have been so rude; I cannot help it; it is my manner, as you know." Mozart answered pleasantly, "My dear Herr Von Nepomuk, I ought to be thankful to you that you made me acquainted with that great mistake in the part of the trumpet. It is true, however, it would have been better to tell me in a polite way. Well, in future you will do so!" Nepomuk promised, and they parted in friendship. THE OVERTURE. The beautiful prima donna Saporetti had exerted herself to make Mozart forget her little innocent offence. He not only forgot but forgave, and assisted her diligently in the study of her part, omitting no necessary blame, as well as giving all proper encouragement. The day before the first representation, the third of November, had arrived, and Mozart had not written his overture. Guardasoni insisted; Mozart's friends expressed uneasiness; but he laughed at them and said, "I will write it this evening." He did not write that evening, but he took a ride with his wife. Guardasoni was now in despair. "You will seeit will not do!" he said, again and again; and sent messengers in all directions. In vain! Mozart was not to be found; and it was determined already, in case of need, to use the Overture to Idomeneco. At midnight, Mozart's carriage stopped at his door. His friends, Guardasoni at their head, surrounded him, complaining and scolding; but Mozart leaped out of the carriage and exclaimed: "Let me alone and begone! Now I will go to work in earnest." He locked the door, took his seat at his writing-table, and began to write; but after a few minutes, sprang up, and said to his wife: "It will not do just now! I will lie down a little while! Wake me after one hour, and prepare a good glass of punch!" He threw himself on the bed in full dress. Constance made the punch, and after an hour approached his bed to wake him; but he slept so sweetly, that she thought it cruel to disturb him. She left him another hour, and then, as she dared not let him sleep longer, awakened him. Mozart rubbed his eyes, stretched himself, and went forthwith to his work. Constance took her seat near him, brought him the punch, and, to keep him awake, told all manner of droll stories: of the Prince Fish, of Blue Beard, of the Princess Cinderella, &c. Mozart laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. At two in the morning he began his wonderful work. At six o'clock it lay finished on his desk. Mozart rose exhausted from his seat, scarcely able to stand upright. "This time it has gone well," he murmured, "but I would not dare to try it again." He was then obliged to lie down. At seven o'clock the copyist came for the manuscript, to copy the dif ferent parts for the musicians in all haste. They were not completed before seven in the evening; so that the representation could not-commence before eight o'clock. Still wet, and covered with sand, the copied parts were placed on the desks of the orchestra. CONCLUSION. The report of the singular story of the Overture was quickly spread abroad. When Mozart appeared in the orchestra he was received with thundering bravos, by the crowd that filled the house to overflowing. He bowed low, then turned to the musicians and said: " Gentlemen, we could not have a rehearsal of the Overture, but I know what I can venture with you. Let us go on!" He took his staff for beating time, gave the signal, and like a thunder-burst, with peal of trumpets, sounded the first accord of the awful Andante. This, as well as the following Allegro, was nobly executed by the skilful orchestra. When the Overture was ended, the shouts of applause seemed as if they would never cease. "A few notes were dropped under the desk," observed Mozart, laughing, to Strobach, who was standing opposite to him, "but the whole went off well, and I feel deeply indebted to these gentlemen.” How, in the representation of the Opera, the applause increased with every scene; how, since that first performance to this day, the air fin chan dal vino calls forth repeated Dacapos, is known not only to the good citizens of Prague, but to the whole civilized world. Thus I conclude this little circle of scenes, which I will not call a Tale of Art. They are but a pleasant remembrance of the period when a master-piece first appeared, the anniversary of which is celebrated on this fourth of November, and which will retain through all time the admiration of noble and feeling hearts. |