Nepomuck, offended, grumbled out, “Herr von Stradetzky is my name, and I play what is possible to play with the trumpet! what you have written there, the devil himself could not play.”
“No, indeed!” said Mozart gently; “if what I have written suits not the instrument, I must by all means alter it!” He immediately made the alteration and added to the original instrumentation both bassoons as well as two double basses. Finally, he let the chorus of Furies sing under the scene, and would not permit visible demons to drag Don Giovanni into the abyss.
With this the rehearsal ended. Mozart, on the whole, was satisfied with the singers and the orchestra; and the performers promised themselves the most brilliant success. As the master went home from the theatre, Nepomuck Stradetzky came behind him, took hold of the skirt of his coat, and said earnestly—
“Do not be angry with me, Herr von Mozart, because I have been a little bearish! That is often my way, and you know I mean well!”
Mozart replied cordially, “Nay, Herr von Nepomuck, I ought to be grateful to you, for having pointed out to me the error in my notes for the trumpet. Nevertheless, it is true, faults may be pointed out in a pleasant manner! Well, in future we will observe more courtesy!”
Nepomuck promised, and they parted in friendship.
THE OVERTURE.
The lovely Saporitti endeavored sedulously to efface from the memory of the little Master Amadeo, the unintentional offence her remark had given him. Mozart speedily forgave and forgot it, and was unwearied in giving her assistance in the study of her part, not hesitating to find fault where it was necessary, but likewise liberally bestowing encouraging praise.
The Signora one morning took occasion to praise the serenade of Don Giovanni, as peculiarly happy, and commended its bland southern coloring; observing that such soft persuasive love tones were foreign to the rude northern speech. Mozart replied with a smile—
“We Germans speak out indeed more honestly; yet it often-times sounds not ill!” And the evening of the same day, the master sang a serenade, charming indeed, but quite in the taste of the bagpipe-playing Prague musicians, under the window of the Signora Saporitti.