The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vii Part 71

Mozart, on a bench near the alley, saw and heard, with great amus.e.m.e.nt, all that was going on. As much as he was interested in the good, sensible girl, with her calm and earnest countenance, he was still more entertained by the countryman who, even after he had gone, left Mozart much to think about. The master, for the time being, had changed places with him; he felt how important in his eyes was the small transaction, how anxiously and conscientiously the prices, differing only by a few kreutzers, were considered. "Now," he thought, "the man will go home to his wife and tell her of his purchases, and the children will all wait until the sack is opened, to see if it holds anything for them; while the good wife will hasten to bring the supper and the mug of fresh home-brewed cider, for which her husband has been keeping his appet.i.te all day. If only I could be as happy and independent waiting only on Nature, and enjoying her blessings though they be hard to win! But if my art demands of me a different kind of work, that I would not, after all, exchange for anything in the world, why should I meanwhile remain in circ.u.mstances which are just the opposite of such a simple and innocent life? If I had a little land in a pleasant spot near the village, and a little house, then I could really live. In the mornings I could work diligently at my scores; all the rest of the time I could spend with my family. I could plant trees, visit my garden, in the fall gather apples and pears with my boys, now and then take a trip to town for an opera, or have a friend or two with me--what delight! Well, who knows what may happen!"

He walked up to the shop, spoke to the girl, and began to examine her stock more closely. His mind had not quite descended from its idyllic flight, and the clean, smooth, s.h.i.+ning wood, with its fresh smell, attracted him. It suddenly occurred to him that he would pick out several articles for his wife, such as she might need or might like to have. At his suggestion, Constanze had, a long time ago, rented a little piece of ground outside the Karnthner Thor, and had raised a few vegetables; so now it seemed quite fitting to invest in a long rake and a small rake and a spade. Then, as he looked further, he did honor to his principles of economy by denying himself, with an effort and after some deliberation, a most tempting churn. To make up for this, however, he chose a deep dish with a cover and a prettily carved handle; for it seemed a most useful article. It was made of narrow strips of wood, light and dark, and was carefully varnished. There was also a particularly fine choice of spoons, bread-boards, and plates of all sizes, and a salt-box of simple construction to hang on the wall.

At last he spied a stout stick, which had a handle covered with leather and studded with bra.s.s nails. As the strange customer seemed somewhat undecided about this also, the girl remarked with a smile that that was hardly a suitable stick for a gentleman to carry. "You are right, child," he answered. "I think I have seen butchers carry such sticks.

No, I will not have it. But all the other things which we have laid out you may bring to me today or tomorrow." And he gave his name and address. Then he went back to the table to finish his beer. Only one of his former companions was sitting there, a master-tinker.

"The girl there has had a good day for once," he remarked. "Her uncle gives her a commission on all that she sells."

Mozart was now more pleased with his purchase than ever. But his interest was to become still greater. For, in a moment, as the girl pa.s.sed near, the tinker called out, "Well, Crescenz, how is your friend the locksmith? Will he soon be filing his own iron?" "Oh," she answered without stopping, "that iron is still growing deep in the mountain."

"She is a good goose," said the tinsmith. "For a long time she kept house for her stepfather, and took care of him when he was ill; but after he died it came out that he had spent all her money. Since that she has lived with her uncle, and she is a treasure, in the shop, in the inn, and with the children. There is a fine young apprentice who would have liked to marry her long ago, but there is a hitch somewhere."

"How so? Has he nothing to live on?"

"They both have saved a little, but not enough. Now comes word of a good situation and a part of a house in Ghent. Her uncle could easily lend them the little money that they need, but of course he will not let her go. He has good friends in the council and in the union, and the young fellow is meeting with all sorts of difficulties."

"The wretches!" cried Mozart, so loud that the other looked around anxiously, fearing that they might have been overheard. "And is there no one who could speak the right word or show those fellows a fist? The villains! We will get the best of them yet."

The tinker was on thorns. He tried, clumsily enough, to moderate his statements, and almost contradicted himself. But Mozart would not listen. "Shame on you, how you chatter! That's just the way with all of you as soon as you have to answer for anything!" And with that he turned on his heel and left the astonished tinker. He hastened to the girl, who was busy with new guests: "Come early tomorrow, and give my respects to your good friend. I hope that your affairs will prosper." She was too busy and too much surprised to thank him.

He retraced his way to the city at a quick pace, for the incident had stirred his blood. Wholly occupied with the affairs of the poor young couple, he ran over in his mind a list of his friends and acquaintances who might be able to help them. Then, since it was necessary to have more particulars from the girl before he could decide upon any step, he dismissed the subject from his thoughts and hastened eagerly toward home.

He confidently expected a more than cordial welcome and a kiss at the door, and longing redoubled his haste. Presently the postman called to him and handed him a small but heavy parcel, which was addressed in a fair clear hand which he at once recognized. He stepped into the first shop to give the messenger his receipt, but when once in the street again his impatience was not to be checked, so he broke the seal, and, now walking, now standing still, devoured his letter.

"I was sitting at my sewing-table," continued Madame Mozart, in her story, "and heard my husband come upstairs and ask the servant for me.

His step and tone were more cheerful and gay than I had expected, and more so than I quite liked. He went first to his room, but came immediately to me. 'Good-evening!' he said. I answered him quietly, without looking up. After walking across the room once or twice, with a smothered yawn he took up the fly-clap from behind the door--a most unusual proceeding--and remarking, 'Where do all these flies come from?'

began to slap about, as loudly as possible. The noise is particularly unpleasant to him, and I had been careful not to let him hear it. 'H'm,'

I thought, 'when he does it himself it's another matter.' Besides, I had not noticed many flies. His strange behavior vexed me much. 'Six at a blow!' he cried. 'Do you see?' No answer. Then he laid something on the table before me, so near that I could not help seeing it without lifting my eyes from my work. It was nothing less than a heap of ducats. He kept on with his nonsense behind my back, talking to himself, and giving a slap now and then. 'The disagreeable good-for-nothing beasts! What were they put in the world for"' _Pitsch_. 'To be killed, I suppose!'

_Patsch_. 'Natural history teaches us how rapidly their numbers multiply.' _Pitsch, patsch_. 'In my house they are soon dispatched. Ah, _maledette! disperate_! Here are twenty more. Do you want them?'

And he came and laid down another pile of gold. I had had hard work to keep from laughing, and could hold out no longer. He fell on my neck and we laughed as if for a wager.

"'But where did the money come from' I asked, as he shook the last pieces from the roll. 'From Prince Esterhazy,[33]rough Haydn. Read the letter.' I read:

"'Eisenstadt, Etc.

"'_My good friend_.--His Highness has, to my great delight, intrusted me with the errand of sending to you these 60 ducats. We have been playing your quartettes again, and his Highness was even more charmed and delighted than at the first hearing, three months ago. He said to me (I must write it word for word): "When Mozart dedicated these works to you, he thought to honor you alone. Yet he cannot take it amiss if I find in them a compliment to myself also. Tell him that I think as highly of his genius as you do, and more than that he could not wish." "Amen," said I. Are you satisfied?

"'_Postscript_ (for the ear of the good wife).--Take care that the acknowledgment be not too long delayed. A note from Mozart himself would be best. We must not lose so favorable a breeze.'

"'You angel! You divine creature!' cried Mozart again and again. It would be hard to say which pleased him most, the letter, or the praise of the prince, or the money. I confess that just then the money appealed most to me. We pa.s.sed a very happy evening, as you may guess.

"Of the affair in the suburb I heard neither that day nor the next. The whole week went by; no Crescenz appeared, and my husband, in a whirl of engagements, soon forgot her. One Sunday evening we had a small musicale. Captain Wa.s.selt, Count Hardegg, and others were there. During a pause I was called out, and there was the outfit. I went back to the room and asked, 'Have you ordered a lot of woodenware from the Alservorsstadt?'

"'By thunder, so I did! I suppose the girl is here? Tell her to come in.'

"So in she came, quite at ease, with rakes, spades, and all, and apologized for her delay, saying that she had forgotten the name of the street and had only just found it. Mozart took the things from her, one after another, and handed them to me with great satisfaction. I thanked him and was pleased with everything, praising and admiring, though I wondered all the time what he had bought the garden tools for.

"'For your garden,' he said.

"'Goodness! we gave that up long ago, because the river did so much damage; and besides we never had good luck with it. I told you, and you didn't object.'

"'What! And so the asparagus that we had this spring--'

"'Was always from the market!'

"'Hear that! If I had only known it! And I praised it just out of pity for your poor garden, when really the stalks were no bigger than Dutch quills.'

"The guests enjoyed the fun, and I had to give them some of the unnecessary articles at once. And when Mozart inquired of the girl about the prospects of her marriage, and encouraged her to speak freely, a.s.suring her that whatever a.s.sistance we could offer should be quietly given and cause her no trouble, she told her story with so much modesty and discretion that she quite won her audience, and was sent away much encouraged.

"'Those people must be helped,' said the Captain. 'The tricks of the union do not amount to much. I know some one who will see to that. The important thing is a contribution toward the expenses of the house and the furniture. Let us give a benefit concert, admission fee _ad libitum_!'

"The suggestion found hearty approval. Somebody picked up the salt-box and said: 'We must have an historic introduction, with a description of Herr Mozart's purchase, and an account of his philanthropic spirit; and we will put this box on the table to receive the contributions and arrange the rakes as decorations.' This did not happen, however, though the concert came off; and what with the receipts of the concert and outside contributions, the young couple had more than enough for their housekeeping outfit, and also the other obstacles were quickly removed.

"The Duscheks, in Prague, dear friends of ours, with whom we are to stay, heard the story, and Frau Duschek asked for some of the woodenware as souvenirs. So I laid aside two which I thought were suitable, and was taking them to her.

"But since we have made another artist friend by the way, one who is, too, about to provide her wedding furnis.h.i.+ngs, and who will not despise what Mozart has chosen, I will divide my gift, and you, Eugenie, may choose between a lovely open-work rod for stirring chocolate and the salt-box, which is decorated with a tasteful tulip. My advice is to take the salt-box; salt, as I have heard, is a symbol of home and hospitality, and with the gift go the best and most affectionate wishes."

So ended Madame Mozart's story. How pleased and gratified her listeners were is easily to be imagined. Their delight was redoubled when, in the presence of the whole party, the interesting articles were brought out, and the model of patriarchal simplicity was formally presented. This, the Count vowed, should have in the silver-chest of its present owner and all her posterity, as important a place as that of the Florentine master's famous work.

It was, by this time, almost eight o'clock and tea-time, and soon our master was pressingly reminded of his promise to show his friends _Don Juan_, which lay under lock and key, but, happily, not too deep down in his trunk. Mozart was ready and willing, and by the time he had told the story of the plot and had brought the libretto, the lights were burning at the piano.

We could wish that our readers could here realize a touch, at least, of that peculiar sensation with which a single chord, floating from a window as we pa.s.s, stops us and holds us spellbound--a touch of that pleasant suspense with which we sit before the curtain in the theatre while the orchestra is still tuning! Or am I wrong? Can the soul stand more deeply in awe of everlasting beauty than when pausing before any sublime and tragic work of art--Macbeth, OEdipus, or whatever it may be?

Man wishes and yet fears to be moved beyond his ordinary habit; he feels that the Infinite will touch him, and he shrinks before it in the very moment when it draws him most strongly. Reverence for perfect art is present, too; the thought of enjoying a heavenly miracle--of being able and being permitted to make it one's own--stirs an emotion--pride, if you will--which is perhaps the purest and happiest of which we are capable.

This little company, however, was on very different ground from ours.

They were about to hear, for the first time, a work which has been familiar to us from childhood. If one subtracts the very enviable pleasure of hearing it through its creator, we have the advantage of them; for in one hearing they could not fully appreciate and understand such a work, even if they had heard the whole of it.

Of the eighteen numbers which were already written the composer did not give the half (in the authority from which we have our statement we find only the last number, the s.e.xtet, expressly mentioned), and he played them in a free sort of transcription, singing here and there as he felt disposed. Of his wife it is only told that she sang two arias. We might guess, since her voice was said to be as strong as it was sweet, that she chose Donna Anna's _Or sai, chi l'onore_, and one of Zerlina's two arias.

In all probability Eugenie and her fiance were the only listeners who, in spirit, taste, and judgment, were what Mozart could wish. They sat far back in the room, Eugenie motionless as a statue, and so engrossed that, in the short pauses when the rest of the audience expressed their interest or showed their delight in involuntary exclamations, she gave only the briefest replies to the Baron's occasional remarks.

When Mozart stopped, after the beautiful s.e.xtet, and conversation began again, he showed himself particularly pleased with the Baron's comments.

They spoke of the close of the opera, and of the first performance, announced for an early date in November; and when some one remarked that certain portions yet to be written must be a gigantic task, the master smiled, and Constanze said to the Countess, so loudly that Mozart must needs hear: "He has ideas which he works at secretly; before me, sometimes."

"You are playing your part badly, my dear," he interrupted. "What if I should want to begin anew? And, to tell the truth, I'd rather like to."

"Leporello!" cried the Count, springing up and nodding to a servant.

"Bring some wine. Sillery--three bottles."

"No, if you please. That is past; my husband will not drink more than he still has in his gla.s.s."

"May it bring him luck--and so to every one!"

"Good heavens! What have I done," lamented Constanze, looking at the clock. "It is nearly eleven, and we must start early tomorrow. How shall we manage?"

"Don't manage at all, dear Frau Mozart."

"Sometimes," began Mozart, "things work out very strangely. What will my Stanzl say when she learns that the piece of work which you are going to hear came to life at this very hour of the night, just before I was to go on a journey?"