136.

Munich, Dec 27, 1780.

I have received the entire opera, Schachtner’s letter, your note, and the pills.  As for the two scenes to be curtailed, it was not my own suggestion, but one to which I consented—­my reason being that Raaff and Del Prato spoil the recitative by singing it quite devoid of all spirit and fire, and so monotonously.  They are the most miserable actors that ever trod the stage.  I had a desperate battle royal with Seeau as to the inexpediency, unfitness, and almost impossibility of the omissions in question.  However, all is to be printed as it is, which at first he positively refused to agree to, but at last, on rating him soundly, he gave way.  The last rehearsal was splendid.  It took place in a spacious apartment in the palace.  The Elector was also within hearing.  On this occasion it was rehearsed with the whole orchestra, (of course I mean those who belong to the opera.) After the first act the Elector called out Bravo! rather too audibly, and when I went into the next room to kiss his hand he said, “Your opera is quite charming, and cannot fail to do you honor.”  As he was not sure whether he could remain for the whole performance, we played the concerted aria and the thunderstorm at the beginning of the second act, by his desire, when he again testified his approbation in the kindest manner, and said, laughing, “Who could believe that such great things could be hidden in so small a head?” Next day, too, at his reception, he extolled my opera much.  The ensuing rehearsal will probably take place in the theatre.  A propos, Becke told me, a day or two ago, that he had written to you about the last rehearsal but one, and among other things had said that Raaff’s aria in the second act is not composed in accordance with the sense of the words, adding, “So I am told, for I understand Italian too little to be able to judge.”  I replied, “If you had only asked me first and written afterwards!  I must tell you that whoever said such a thing can understand very little Italian.  The aria is quite adapted to the words.  You hear the mare, and the mare funesto; and the passages dwell on the minacciar, and entirely express minacciar (threatening).  Moreover, it is the most superb aria in the opera, and has met with universal approbation.”

Is it true that the Emperor is ill?  Is it true that the Archbishop intends to come to Munich?  Raaff is the best and most upright man alive, but—­so addicted to old-fashioned routine that flesh and blood cannot stand it; so that it is very difficult to write for him, but very easy if you choose to compose commonplace arias, as for instance the first one, “Vedromi intorno.”  When you hear it, you will say that it is good and pretty, but had I written it for Zonca it would have suited the words better.  Raaff likes everything according to rule, and does not regard expression.  I have had a piece of work with him about the quartet.  The more I think of the quartet