Books: The Letters of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, V.1.

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Things here are in a poor state; but the day after to-morrow,
Saturday the 17th, I MYSELF ALONE, (to save expense,) to please
some kind friends, amateurs, and connoisseurs, intend to give a
subscription concert. If I engaged an orchestra, it would with
the lighting cost me more than three louis-d'or, and who knows
whether we shall get as much? My sonatas are not yet published,
though promised for the end of September. Such is the effect of
not looking after things yourself, for which that obstinate Grimm
is also to blame. They will probably be full of mistakes, not
being able to revise them myself, for I was obliged to devolve
the task on another, and I shall be without my sonatas in Munich.
Such an occurrence, though apparently a trifle, may often bring
success, honor, and wealth, or, on the other hand, misfortune.

116.

Strassburg, Oct. 20, 1778.

You will perceive that I am still here, by the advice of Herr
Frank and other Strassburg magnates, but I leave this to-morrow.
In my last letter I mentioned that on the 17th I was to give a
kind of sample of a concert, as concerts here fare worse than
even at Salzburg. It is, of course, over. I played quite alone,
having engaged no musicians, so that I might at least lose
nothing; briefly, I took three louis-d'or. The chief receipts
consisted in the shouts of Bravo! and Bravissimo! which echoed on
every side. Prince Max of Zweibrucken also honored the concert by
his presence. I need not tell you that every one was pleased. I
intended then to pursue my journey, but was advised to stay till
the following Saturday, in order to give a grand concert in the
theatre. I did so, and, to the surprise, indignation, and
disgrace of all the Strassburgers, my receipts were exactly the
same. The Director, M. de Villeneuve, abused the inhabitants of
this most detestable town in the most unmeasured terms. I took a
little more money, certainly, but the cost of the band (which is
very bad, but its pay very good), the lighting, printing, the
guard at the door, and the check-takers at the entrances, &c.,
made up a considerable sum. Still I must tell you that the
applause and clapping of hands almost deafened me, and made my
ears ache; it was as if the whole theatre had gone crazy. Those
who were present, loudly and publicly denounced their fellow-
citizens, and I told them all that if I could have reasonably
supposed so few people would have come, I would gladly have given
the concert gratis, merely for the pleasure of seeing the theatre
well filled. And in truth I should have preferred it, for, upon
my word, I don't know a more desolate sight than a long table
laid for fifty, and only three at dinner. Besides, it was so
cold; but I soon warmed myself, for, to show the Strassburg
gentlemen how little I cared, I played a very long time for my
own amusement, giving a concerto more than I had promised, and,
at the close, extemporizing. It is now over, but at all events I
gained honor and fame.

I have drawn on Herr Scherz for eight louis-d'or, as a
precaution, for no one can tell what may happen on a journey; and
I HAVE is better than I MIGHT HAVE HAD. I have read the fatherly
well-meaning letter which you wrote to M. Frank when in such
anxiety about me. [Footnote: "Your sister and I confessed, and
took the Holy Communion," writes the father, "and prayed to God
fervently for your recovery. Our excellent Bullinger prays daily
for you also."] When I wrote to you from Nancy, not knowing
myself, you of course could not know, that I should have to wait
so long for a good opportunity. Your mind may be quite at ease
about the merchant with whom I am travelling; he is the most
upright man in the world, takes more care of me than of himself,
and, entirely to oblige me, is to go with me to Augsburg and
Munich, and possibly even to Salzburg. We actually shed tears
when we think that we must separate. He is not a learned man, but
a man of experience, and we live together like children. When he
thinks of his wife and family whom he has left in Paris, I try to
comfort him, and when I think of my own people he speaks comfort
to me.

On the 31st of October, my name-day, I amused myself (and, better
still, others) for a couple of hours. At the repeated entreaties
of Herr Frank, de Berger, &c., &c., I gave another concert, by
which, after paying the expenses, (not heavy this time,) I
actually cleared a louis-d'or! Now you see what Strassburg is! I
wrote at the beginning of this letter that I was to leave this on
the 27th or 28th, but it proved impossible, owing to a sudden
inundation here, when the floods caused great damage. You will
probably see this in the papers. Of course travelling was out of
the question, which was the only thing that induced me to consent
to give another concert, being obliged to remain at all events.

To-morrow I go by the diligence to Mannheim. Do not be startled
at this. In foreign countries it is expedient to follow the
advice of those who know from experience what ought to be done.
Most of the strangers who go to Stuttgart (N.B., by the
diligence) do not object to this detour of eight hours, because
the road is better and also the conveyance. I must now, dearest
father, cordially wish you joy of your approaching name-day. My
kind father, I wish you from my heart all that a son can wish for
a good father, whom he so highly esteems and dearly loves. I
thank the Almighty that He has permitted you again to pass this
day in the enjoyment of perfect health, and implore from Him the
boon, that during the whole of my life (and I hope to live for a
good many years to come) I may be able to congratulate you every
year. However strange, and perhaps ridiculous, this wish may seem
to you, I do assure you it is both sincere and well-intended.

I hope you received my last letter from Strassburg. I wish to
write nothing further of M. Grimm, but it is entirely owing to
his stupidity in pressing forward my departure so much, that my
sonatas are not yet engraved, or at all events that I have not
got them, and when I do I shall probably find them full of
mistakes. If I had only stayed three days longer in Paris, I
could have revised them myself and brought them with me. The
engraver was desperate when I told him that I could not correct
them, but must commission someone else to do so. Why? Because,
being resolved not to be three days longer in the same house with
Grimm, I told him that on account of the sonatas I was going to
stay with Count Sickingen, when he replied, his eyes sparkling
with rage, "If you leave my house before you leave Paris, I will
never in my life see you again. In that case do not presume ever
to come near me, and look on me as your bitterest enemy." Self-
control was indeed very necessary. Had it not been for your sake,
who knew nothing about the matter, I certainly should have
replied, "Be my enemy; by all means be so. You are so already, or
you would not have prevented me putting my affairs in order here,
which would have enabled me to keep my word, to preserve my honor
and reputation, and also to make money, and probably a lucky hit;
for if I present my sonatas to the Electress when I go to Munich,
I shall thus keep my promise, probably receive a present, and
make my fortune besides." But as it was, I only bowed, and left
the room without saying a syllable. Before quitting Paris,
however, I said all this to him, but he answered me like a man
totally devoid of sense, or rather like a malicious man who
affects to have none. I have written twice to Herr Heina, but
have got no answer. The sonatas ought to have appeared by the end
of September, and M. Grimm was to have forwarded the promised
copies immediately to me, so I expected to have found them in
Strassburg; but M. Grimm writes to me that he neither hears nor
sees anything of them, but as soon as he does they are to be
forwarded, and I hope to have them ere long.

Strassburg can scarcely do without me. You cannot think how much
I am esteemed and beloved here. People say that I am
disinterested as well as steady and polite, and praise my
manners. Every one knows me. As soon as they heard my name, the
two Herrn Silbermann and Herr Hepp (organist) came to call on me,
and also Capellmeister Richter. He has now restricted himself
very much; instead of forty bottles of wine a day, he only drinks
twenty! I played publicly on the two best organs that Silbermann
has here, in the Lutheran and New Churches, and in the Thomas
Church. If the Cardinal had died, (and he was very ill when I
arrived,) I might have got a good situation, for Herr Richter is
seventy-eight years of age. Now farewell! Be cheerful and in good
spirits, and remember that your son is, thank God! well, and
rejoicing that his happiness daily draws nearer. Last Sunday I
heard a new mass of Herr Richter's, which is charmingly written.

117.

Mannheim, November 12, 1778.

I arrived here safely on the 6th, agreeably surprising all my
kind friends. God be praised that I am once more in my beloved
Mannheim! I assure you, if you were here you would say the same.
I am living at Madame Cannabich's, who, as well as her family and
all my good friends here, was quite beside herself with joy at
seeing me again. We have not yet done talking, for she tells me
of all the events and changes that have taken place during my
absence. I have not been able to dine once at home since I came,
for people are fighting to have me; in a word, just as I love
Mannheim, so Mannheim loves me; and, though of course I don't
know it positively, still I do think it possible that I may get
an appointment here. But HERE, not in Munich, for my own belief
is that the Elector will soon once more take up his residence in
Mannheim, for he surely cannot long submit to the coarseness of
the Bavarian gentlemen. You know that the Mannheim company is in
Munich. There they hissed the two best actresses, Madame Toscani
and Madame Urban. There was such an uproar that the Elector
himself leant over his box and called out, "Hush!" To this,
however, no one paid any attention; so he sent down Count Seeau,
who told some of the officers not to make such a noise, as the
Elector did not like it; but the only answer he got was, that
they had paid their money, and no man had a right to give them
any orders. But what a simpleton I am! You no doubt have heard
this long ago through our....

I have now something to say. I may PERHAPS make forty louis-d'or
here. To be sure, I should have to stay six weeks, or at most two
months, in Mannheim. Seiler's company is here, whom you no doubt
already know by reputation. Herr von Dalberg is the director. He
will not hear of my leaving this till I have written a duodrama
for him, and indeed I did not long hesitate, for I have often
wished to write this style of drama. I forget if I wrote to you
about it the first time that I was here. Twice at that time I saw
a similar piece performed, which afforded me the greatest
pleasure; in fact, nothing ever surprised me so much, for I had
always imagined that a thing of this kind would make no effect.
Of course you know that there is no singing in it, but merely
recitation, to which the music is a sort of obligato recitativo.
At intervals there is speaking while the music goes on, which
produces the most striking effect. What I saw was Benda's
"Medea." He also wrote another, "Ariadne auf Naxos," and both are
truly admirable. You are aware that of all the Lutheran
Capellmeisters Benda was always my favorite, and I like those two
works of his so much that I constantly carry them about with me.
Conceive my joy at now composing the very thing I so much wished!
Do you know what my idea is?--that most operatic recitatives
should be treated in this way, and the recitative only
occasionally sung WHEN THE WORDS CAN BE THOROUGHLY EXPRESSED BY
THE MUSIC. An Academie des Amateurs is about to be established
here, like the one in Paris, where Herr Franzl is violin leader,
and I am at this moment writing a concerto for violin and piano.
I found my dear friend Raaff still here, but he leaves this on
the 8th. He has sounded my praises here, and shown sincere
interest in me, and I hope he will do the same in Munich. Do you
know what that confounded fellow Seeau said here?--that my opera
buffa had been hissed at Munich! Fortunately he said so in a
place where I am well known; still, his audacity provokes me; but
the people, when they go to Munich, will hear the exact reverse.
A whole flock of Bavarians are here, among others Fraulein de
Pauli (for I don't know her present name). I have been to see her
because she sent for me immediately. Oh! what a difference there
is between the people of the Palatinate and those of Bavaria!
What a language it is! so coarse! and their whole mode of
address! It quite annoys me to hear once more their hoben and
olles (haben and alles), and their WORSHIPFUL SIR. Now good-bye!
and pray write to me soon. Put only my name, for they know where
I am at the post-office. I am so well known here that it is
impossible a letter for me can be lost. My cousin wrote to me,
and by mistake put Franconian Hotel instead of Palatine Hotel.
The landlord immediately sent the letter to M. Serrarius's, where
I lodged when I was last here. What rejoices me most of all in
the whole Mannheim and Munich story is that Weber has managed his
affairs so well. They have now 1600 florins; for the daughter has
1000 florins and her father 400, and 200 more as prompter.
Cannabich did the most for them. It is quite a history about
Count Seeau; if you don't know it, I will write you the details
next time.

I beg, dearest father, that you will make use of this affair at
Salzburg, and speak so strongly and so decidedly, that the
Archbishop may think it possible I may not come after all, and
thus be induced to give me a better salary, for I declare I
cannot think of it with composure. The Archbishop cannot pay me
sufficiently for the slavery of Salzburg. As I said before, I
feel the greatest pleasure at the thought of paying you a visit,
but only annoyance and misery in seeing myself once more at that
beggarly court. The Archbishop must no longer attempt to play the
great man with me as he used to do, or I may possibly play him a
trick,--this is by no means unlikely,--and I am sure that you
would participate in my satisfaction.

118.

Mannheim, Nov. 24, 1778.

MY DEAR BARON VON DALBERG,--

I called on you twice, but had not the good fortune to find you
at home; yesterday you were in the house, but engaged, so I could
not see you. I hope you will therefore excuse my troubling you
with these few lines, as it is very important to me to explain
myself fully. Herr Baron, you are well aware that I am not an
interested man, particularly when I know that it is in my power
to do a service to so great a connoisseur and lover of music as
yourself. On the other hand, I also know that you certainly would
not wish that I should be a loser on this occasion; I therefore
take the liberty to make my final stipulations on the subject, as
it is impossible for me to remain here longer in uncertainty. I
agree to write a monodrama for the sum of twenty-five louis-d'or,
and to stay here for two months longer to complete everything,
and to attend all the rehearsals, &c., but on this condition,
that, happen what may, I am to be paid by the end of January. Of
course I shall also expect free admission to the theatre. Now, my
dear Baron, this is all that I can do, and if you consider, you
will admit that I certainly am acting with great discretion. With
regard to your opera, I do assure you I should rejoice to compose
music for it, but you must yourself perceive that I could not
undertake such a work for twenty-five louis-d'or, as it would be
twice the labor of a monodrama (taken at the lowest rate). The
chief obstacle would be your having told me that Gluck and
Schweitzer are partially engaged to write this work. But were you
even to give me fifty louis-d'or, I would still as an honest man
dissuade you from it. An opera without any singers! what is to be
done in such a case? Still, if on this occasion there is a
prospect of its being performed, I will not hesitate to undertake
the work to oblige you; but it is no trifling one--of that I
pledge you my word. I have now set forth my ideas clearly and
candidly, and request your decision.

119.

Mannheim, Dec. 3, 1778.

I MUST ask your forgiveness for two things,--first, that I have
not written to you for so long; and secondly, that this time also
I must be brief. My not having answered you sooner is the fault
of no one but yourself, and your first letter to me at Mannheim.
I really never could have believed--but silence! I will say no
more on the subject. Lot us have done with it. Next Wednesday,
the 9th, I leave this; I cannot do so sooner, because, thinking
that I was to be here for a couple of months, I accepted some
pupils, and of course wish to make out the twelve lessons. I
assure you that you have no idea what kind and true friends I
have here, which time will prove. Why must I be so brief? Because
my hands are more than full. To please Herr Gemmingen and myself,
I am writing the first act of the melodramatic opera (that I was
commissioned to write), but now do so gratis; I shall bring it
with me and finish it at home. You see how strong my inclination
must be for this kind of composition. Of course Herr von
Gemmingen is the poet. The duodrama is called "Semiramis."

Next Wednesday I set off, and do you know how I travel? With the
worthy prelate, the Bishop of Kaisersheim. When a kind friend of
mine mentioned me to him, he at once knew my name, expressing the
pleasure it would be to him to have me as a travelling companion.
He is (though a priest and prelate) a most amiable man. I am
therefore going by Kaisersheim and not by Stuttgart; but it is
just the same to me, for I am very lucky in being able to spare
my purse a little (as it is slender enough) on the journey. Be so
good as to answer me the following questions. How do the
comedians please at Salzburg? Is not the young lady who sings,
Madlle. Keiserin? Does Herr Feiner play the English horn? Ah! if
we had only clarionets too! You cannot imagine the splendid
effect of a symphony with flutes, hautboys, and clarionets. At my
first audience of the Archbishop I shall tell him much that is
new, and also make some suggestions. Oh, how much finer and
better our orchestra might be if the Archbishop only chose! The
chief cause why it is not so, is that there are far too many
performances. I make no objection to the chamber-music, only to
the concerts on a larger scale.

A propos, you say nothing of it, but I conclude you have received
the trunk; if not, Herr von Grimm is responsible for it. You will
find in it the aria I wrote for Madlle. Weber. You can have no
idea of the effect of that aria with instruments; you may not
think so when you see it, but it ought to be sung by a Madlle.
Weber! Pray, give it to no one, for that would be most unfair, as
it was written solely for her, and fits her like a well-fitting
glove.

120.

Kaisersheim, Dec. 18, 1778.

I ARRIVED here safely on Sunday the 13th, God be praised! I
travelled in the most agreeable way, and had likewise the
inexpressible pleasure to find a letter from you here. The reason
that I did not forthwith answer it was, because I wished to give
you sure and precise information as to my departure, for which I
had not fixed any time; but I have at length resolved, as the
prelate goes to Munich on the 26th or 27th, to be again his
companion. I must tell you, however, that he does not go by
Augsburg. I lose nothing by this; but if you have anything to
arrange or transact where my presence is wanted, I can at any
time, if you wish it, (being so near,) make a little expedition
from Munich. My journey from Mannheim to this place would have
been most agreeable to a man, leaving a city with a light heart.
The prelate and his Chancellor, an honest, upright, and amiable
man, drove together in one carriage, and Herr Kellermeister,
Father Daniel, Brother Anton, the Secretary, and I, preceded them
always half an hour, or an hour. But for me, to whom nothing
could be more painful than leaving Mannheim, this journey was
only partly agreeable, and would not have been at all so, but
rather very tiresome, if I had not from my early youth been so
much accustomed to leave people, countries, and cities, and with
no very sanguine hope of soon or ever again seeing the kind
friends I left. I cannot deny, but at once admit, that not only I
myself, but all my intimate friends, particularly the Cannabichs,
were in the most pitiable distress during the last few days after
my departure was finally settled. We felt as if it were not
possible for us to part. I set off at half-past eight o'clock in
the morning, and Madame Cannabich did not leave her room; she
neither would nor could take leave of me. I did not wish to
distress her, so left the house without seeing her. My very dear
father, I can safely say that she is one of my best and truest
friends, for I only call those friends who are so in every
situation, who, day and night, think how they can best serve the
interests of their friend, applying to all influential persons,
and toiling to secure his happiness. Now I do assure you such is
the faithful portrait of Madame Cannabich. There may indeed be an
alloy of self-interest in this, for where does anything take
place--indeed, how can anything be done in this world--without
some alloy of selfishness? What I like best in Madame Cannabich
is, that she never attempts to deny this. I will tell you when we
meet in what way she told me so, for when we are alone, which, I
regret to say, is very seldom, we become quite confidential. Of
all the intimate friends who frequent her house, I alone possess
her entire confidence; for I alone know all her domestic and
family troubles, concerns, secrets, and circumstances. We were
not nearly so well acquainted the first time I was here, (we have
agreed on this point,) nor did we mutually under stand each other
so well; but living in the same house affords greater facilities
to know a person. When in Paris I first began fully to appreciate
the sincere friendship of the Cannabichs, having heard from a
trustworthy source the interest both she and her husband took in
me. I reserve many topics to explain and to discuss personally,
for since my return from Paris the scene has undergone some
remarkable changes, but not in all things. Now as to my cloister
life. The monastery itself made no great impression on me, after
having seen the celebrated Abbey of Kremsmunster. I speak of the
exterior and what they call here the court square, for the most
renowned part I have yet to see. What appears to me truly
ridiculous is the formidable military. I should like to know of
what use they are. At night I hear perpetual shouts of "Who goes
there?" and I invariably reply, "Guess!" You know what a good and
kind man the prelate is, but you do not know that I may class
myself among his favorites, which, I believe, does me neither good
nor harm, but it is always pleasant to have one more friend in
the world. With regard to the monodrama, or duodrama, a voice
part is by no means necessary, as not a single note is sung, but
entirely spoken; in short, it is a recitative with instruments,
only the actor speaks the words instead of singing them. If you
were to hear it even with the piano, it could not fail to please
you, but properly performed, you would be quite transported. I
can answer for this; but it requires a good actor or actress.

I shall really feel quite ashamed if I arrive in Munich without
my sonatas. I cannot understand the delay; it was a stupid trick
of Grimm's, and I have written to him to that effect. He will now
see that he was in rather too great a hurry. Nothing ever
provoked me so much. Just reflect on it. I know that my sonatas
were published in the beginning of November, and I, the author,
have not yet got them, therefore cannot present them to the
Electress, to whom they are dedicated. I have, however, taken
measures in the mean time which will insure my getting them. I
hope that my cousin in Augsburg has received them, or that they
are lying at Josef Killiau's for her; so I have written to beg
her to send them to me at once.

Until I come myself, I commend to your good offices an organist,
and also a good pianist, Herr Demmler, from Augsburg. I had
entirely forgotten him, and was very glad when I heard of him
here. He has considerable genius; a situation in Salzburg might
be very useful in promoting his further success, for all he
requires is a good leader in music; and I could not find him a
better conductor than you, dear father, and it would really be a
pity if he were to leave the right path. [See No. 68.] That
melancholy "Alceste" of Schweitzer's is to be performed in
Munich. The best part (besides some of the openings, middle
passages, and the finales of some arias) is the beginning of the
recitative "O Jugendzeit," and this was made what it is by
Raaff's assistance; he punctuated it for Hartig (who plays
Admet), and by so doing introduced the true expression into the
aria. The worst of all, however, (as well as the greater part of
the opera,) is certainly the overture.

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