Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Amadeus meets Little Women in this irresistibly delightful historical novel by award-winning author Stephanie Cowell. The year is 1777 and the four Weber sisters, daughters of a musical family, share a crowded, artistic life in a ramshackle house. While their father scrapes by as a music copyist and their mother secretly draws up a list of prospective suitors in the kitchen, the sisters struggle with their futures, both marital and musical—until twenty-one-year-old Wolfgang Mozart walks into their lives. Bringing eighteenth-century Europe to life with unforgiving winters, yawning princes, scheming parents, and the enduring passions of young talent, Stephanie Cowell’s richly textured tale captures a remarkable historical figure—and the four young women who engage his passion, his music, and his heart.
could have gotten that day, and what sort of inn would house their older sisters that night. “Their dresses will be wrinkled,” Constanze said. “They stuffed too much inside the trunk.” “They’re staying with Thorwart and his wife; they’ll help them.” “His wife mightn’t speak to them; she doesn’t speak to anyone. She’s given up on mankind. I heard Mama say it once.” By now they had taken down another book of engravings of Vienna, and turned the pages slowly, holding up the candle. From the other
the mountains and fields. The creaking conveyance that they had boarded before dawn was too full, and his fellow musicians pressed uncomfortably close, while someone’s leather bassoon case wobbled back and forth until it found a place leaning against his thigh. In the midafternoon the horses stopped before St. Stephan’s Cathedral, called Stephansdom, and the nearby Palace of the Teutonic Knights, an old religious order where the Archbishop kept his Viennese residence. A footman showed Mozart to
daughter; did you not lose your head over her? And what did she do but make herself the loose woman? But all of that family’s perfidy comes from the mother, whom your own darling, sainted mother felt to be untrustworthy. I must warn you, they will cheat you or entrap you in some way. They know the softness of your heart, which you wear on your sleeve. Adieu. I am going now to settle some debts. Send me a copy of the symphony if you can. And go regularly to confession and to mass. You used to go
tall cabinet for strings and parts, he drew her closer. He bent down to her, and his mouth was terribly warm and smelled of wine. She had never been kissed on the lips by a man before. Her whole body grew warm as his fingers and then his mouth moved beneath her bodice to one nipple. So this was what had swept Aloysia away; this was the thing that made women throw off all resolution. It was the end of feeling such loneliness, of being the one not chosen, of living in silence. He was panting and
upon your son and that wicked girl, her petticoats entirely raised above her thighs ... The rest of the sentence she wrote with the page half covered by her free hand, so that for a few days following her little finger was edged with ink. She finished the letter then and signed it, Your loving and devoted Wife, who trusts in God’s mercy. Maria Anna Mozart Many feet below the houses of the city lay one of the city’s beer cellars, which offered the local beer and plenty of it, in addition