- I think that went off remarkably well, don't you? - Indeed. The Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it, don't you think? Certainly. Your Grace. Ah, Mozart. - Why? - Why what, sir? Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests, by one of my own servants? The more license I allow you, the more you take. If His Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me. I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg. - Your father is waiting for you there, patiently. - No, Your Grace. I mean, with all humility, I would prefer you dismissed me. It's obvious I don't satisfy. I have no intention of dismissing you. You will remain in my service and learn your place. On the page it looked... Nothing. The beginning was simple, almost comic. Just a pulse. Bassoons, basset horns... like a rusty squeezebox. And then, suddenly, high above it... an oboe. A single note, hanging there, unwavering. Until... a clarinet took it over... sweetened it into a phrase of such delight. This was no composition by a performing monkey. This was a music I had never heard. Filled with such longing, such unfulfillable longing. It seemed to me I was hearing the voice of God. Excuse me. But why? Why would God choose an obscene child to be his instrument? It was not to be believed. This piece had to be an accident. It had to be. It better be. How good is he, this Mozart? He's remarkable, Majesty. I heard an extraordinary serious opera of his last month. - Idomeneo, King of Crete. - That? A most tiresome piece. I heard it too. Tiresome? A young man trying to impress beyond his abilities. Too much spice. Too many notes. Majesty... I thought it was the most promising work I've heard in years. Well then, we should make some effort to acquire him. We could use a good German composer in Vienna, surely? I'm sure he could be tempted with the right offer. Say... an opera in German for our National Theater. Excellent, sire. But not German. I beg, Your Majesty. Italian is the proper language for opera. All educated people agree on that. What do you think, Chamberlain? In my opinion, sire, it's time we had a piece in our own language. Plain German for plain people. Kapellmeister? Majesty... I must agree with Herr Direttore. German is... too brute for singing. Court composer... what do you think? I think it's an interesting notion to keep Mozart in Vienna, Majesty. It should really infuriate the archbishop beyond measure, if that is Your Majesty's intention. You are cattivo, court composer. I want to meet this young man. Chamberlain, arrange a pleasant welcome for him. Well, there it is. This is a beautiful wig for you. It looks so marvelous and I love it. The other one. Here is the other one. I think you will love it. Here's the third one. So? Here we go. - How do you like it? - They're all so beautiful. Why don't I have three heads? This is funny. Three heads. Gentlemen. - Good morning. - Morning, Your Majesty. What do you have for me today? - Your Majesty, Herr Mozart. - Yes, what about him? He's here. Well, there it is. Good. Your Majesty, I hope you won't find it improper, but I've written a little march of welcome in his honor. What a charming idea, court composer. May I see? Just a... Just a trifle, of course. - May I try it? - Majesty! Let's have some fun. Delightful, court composer. May I play it when he comes in? - You do me too much honor, sire. - Bring in Herr Mozart, please. But... slowly, slowly. I need a minute to practice. Good, continue. G, Majesty. Excellent. Good, Majesty. Continue. Very good. Very good, Majesty. Tempo. Up. Lightly, then strongly. It's a march, Majesty. Again. Bravo, Majesty. Gentlemen, please. A little less enthusiasm, I beg you. No, please, please. It's not a holy relic. You know, we have met before. In this very room. Perhaps you don't remember it, you were only 6 years ------------------------------ Читайте также: - текст Не хлебом единым... на английском - текст Формула любви на английском - текст Сайлент Хилл на английском - текст Калина красная на английском - текст Железный орёл на английском |