Walter Scott - "Marmion: A Tale of Flodden Field"

Georges Duhamel - "The New Book Of Martyrs"

Constant - "The Private Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, v1"

Sir William Petty - "Essays on Mankind and Political Arithmetic"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
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Books: The Letters of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, V.1.

W >> Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart >> The Letters of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, V.1.




Cannabich composes far better than when we knew him in Paris, but
what both mamma and I remarked here at once in the symphonies is,
that one begins just like another, always slow and unisono. I
must now, dear papa, write you something about the Holy Cross in
Augsburg, which I have always forgotten to do. I met with a great
many civilities there, and the Prelate is the most good-natured
man in the world--a kind, worthy old simpleton, who may be
carried off at any moment, for his breath fails sadly. He
recently--in fact, the very day we left--had an attack of
paralysis. He, and the Dean and Procurator, begged us when we
came back to Augsburg to drive straight to the Holy Cross. The
Procurator is as jolly as Father Leopold at Seeon. [FOOTNOTE: A
cloister in Lower Bavaria, that Wolfgang often visited with his
father, as they had a dear friend there, Father Johannes.] My
cousin told me beforehand what kind of man he was, so we soon
became as well acquainted as if we had known each other for
twenty years. I lent him the mass in F, and the first of the
short masses in C, and the offertorium in counterpoint in D
minor. My fair cousin has undertaken to be custodian of these. I
got back the offertorium punctually, having desired that it
should be returned first. They all, and even the Prelate, plagued
me to give them a litany, De venerabili. I said I had not got it
with me. I really was by no means sure; so I searched, but did
not find it. They gave me no peace, evidently thinking that I
only wished to evade their request; so I said, "I really have not
the litany with me; it is at Salzburg. Write to my father; it is
his affair. If he chooses to give it to you, well and good; if
not, I have nothing to do with it." A letter from the Deacon to
you will therefore probably soon make its appearance. Do just as
you please, but if you do send him one, let it be the last in E
flat; they have voices enough for anything, and a great many
people will be assembled at that time; they even write for them
to come from a distance, for it is their greatest festival.
Adieu!



78.

Mannheim, Nov. 22, 1777.

THE first piece of information that I have to give you is, that
my truthful letter to Herr Herzog in Augsburg, puncto Schmalzii,
has had a capital effect. He wrote me a very polite letter in
return, expressing his annoyance that I should have been received
so uncourteously by detto Schmalz [melted butter]; so he herewith
sent me a sealed letter to detto Herr Milk, with a bill of
exchange for 150 florins on detto Herr Cheese. You must know
that, though I only saw Herr Herzog once, I could not resist
asking him to send me a draft on Herr Schmalz, or to Herrn
Butter, Milk, and Cheese, or whom he would--a ca! This joke has
succeeded; it is no good making a poor mouth!

We received this forenoon (the 21st) your letter of the 17th. I
was not at home, but at Cannabich's, where Wendling was
rehearsing a concerto for which I have written the orchestral
accompaniments. To-day at six o'clock the gala concert took
place. I had the pleasure of hearing Herr Franzl (who married a
sister of Madame Cannabich's) play a concerto on the violin; he
pleased me very much. You know that I am no lover of mere
difficulties. He plays difficult music, but it does not appear to
be so; indeed, it seems as if one could easily do the same, and
this is real talent. He has a very fine round tone, not a note
wanting, and everything distinct and well accentuated. He has
also a beautiful staccato in bowing, both up and down, and I
never heard such a double shake as his. In short, though in my
opinion no WIZARD, he is a very solid violin-player.--I do wish I
could conquer my confounded habit of writing crooked.

I am sorry I was not at Salzburg when that unhappy occurrence
took place about Madame Adlgasserin, so that I might have
comforted her; and that I would have done--particularly being so
handsome a woman. [Footnote: Adlgasser was the organist of the
cathedral. His wife was thought very stupid. See the letter of
August 26, 1781.] I know already all that you write to me about
Mannheim, but I never wish to say anything prematurely; all in
good time. Perhaps in my next letter I may tell you of something
VERY GOOD in your eyes, but only GOOD in mine; or something you
will think VERY BAD, but I TOLERABLE; possibly, too, something
only TOLERABLE for you, but VERY GOOD, PRECIOUS, and DELIGHTFUL
for me! This sounds rather oracular, does it not? It is
ambiguous, but still may be divined.

My regards to Herr Bullinger; every time that I get a letter from
you, usually containing a few lines from him, I feel ashamed, as
it reminds me that I have never once written to my best and
truest friend, from whom I have received so much kindness and
civility. But I cannot try to excuse myself. I only beg of him to
do so for me as far as possible, and to believe that, as soon as
I have a little leisure, I will write to him--as yet I have had
none; for from the moment I know that it is even possible or
probable that I may leave a place, I have no longer a single hour
I can call my own, and though I have now a glimmer of hope, still
I shall not be at rest till I know how things are. One of the
oracle's sayings must come to pass. I think it will be the middle
one or the last--I care not which, for at all events it will be
something settled.

I no doubt wrote to you that Holzbauer's grand opera is in
German. If not, I write it now. The title is "Gunther von
Schwarzburg," but not our worshipful Herr Gunther, barber and
councillor at Salzburg! "Rosamunde" is to be given during the
ensuing Carnival, the libretto being a recent composition of
Wieland's, and the music also a new composition of Herr
Schweitzer. Both are to come here. I have already seen some parts
of the opera and tried it over on the piano, but I say nothing
about it as yet. The target you have had painted for me, to be
given in my name to the shooting-match, is first-rate, and the
verses inimitable. [Footnote: For cross-bow practice, attended
weekly by a circle of his Salzburg friends. On the target was
represented "the melancholy farewell of two persons dissolved in
tears, Wolfgang and the 'Basle.'"] I have now no more to write,
except that I wish you all a good night's rest, and that you may
all sleep soundly till this letter comes to wake you. Adieu! I
embrace from my heart--cart, my dear sister--blister, and am your
dutiful and attached son,

WOLFGANG AMADE MOZART,

Knight of the Golden Spur, Member of the great Verona Academy,
Bologna--oui, mon ami!



79.

Mannheim, Nov. 26, 1777.

--MOREOVER, every one acquainted with Mannheim, even the
nobility, advised me to come here. The reason why we are still in
this place is that I have some thoughts of remaining the winter
here, and I am only waiting for an answer from the Elector to
decide my plans. The Intendant, Count Savioli, is a very worthy
gentleman, and I told him to inform the Elector that, this being
such severe weather for travelling, I am willing to remain here
to teach the young Count [Carl Theodor's son]. He promised me to
do his best for me, but said that I must have patience till the
gala days were over. All this took place with the consent and at
the SUGGESTION of Cannabich. When I told him that I had spoken to
Savioli and what I had said, he replied he really thought it was
more likely to be brought about than not. Indeed, Cannabich spoke
to the Elector on the subject before the Count did so; and now I
must wait to hear the result. I am going to call on Herr Schmalz
to draw my 150 florins, for my landlord would no doubt prefer the
sound of gold to that of music. I little thought that I should
have the gift of a watch here, [see No. 74,] but such is again
the case. I would have been off long ago, but every one says to
me, "Where do you intend to go for the winter? Travelling is
detestable in such weather; stay here." Cannabich also wishes it
very much; so now I have taken steps to do so, and as such an
affair cannot be hurried, I must wait with patience, and I hope
soon to be able to send you good news. I have already two pupils
certain, besides the ARCH ones, who certainly won't give me less
than a louis each monthly. Without these I could not indeed
manage to remain. Now let the matter rest as it is, or as it may
be, what avail useless speculations? What is to occur we do not
know; still in so far we do! what God wills!

Now for a cheerful allegro--non siete si pegro. [Footnote: "Don't
be so desponding."] If we do leave this, we shall go straight
to--where? To Weilburg, or whatever the name of the place may be, to
the Princess, sister of the Prince of Orange, whom we knew so
well at the Hague. There we shall stay--N. B., so long as we like
the officers' table, and no doubt receive at least six louis-
d'or.

A few days ago Herr Sterkel came here from Wurzburg. The day
before yesterday, the 24th, I dined with Cannabich's, and again
at Oberstjager von Hagen's, and spent the evening al solito with
Cannabich, where Sterkel joined us, [Footnote: Abbe Sterkel, a
favorite composer and virtuoso on the piano, whom Beethoven,
along with Simrock, Ries, and the two Rombergs, visited in the
autumn of 1791, in Aschaffenberg.] and played five duets [sonatas
with violin], but so quick that it was difficult to follow the
music, and neither distinctly nor in time. Every one said the
same. Madlle. Cannabich played my six sonatas, and in fact better
than Sterkel. I must now conclude, for I cannot write in bed, and
I am too sleepy to sit up any longer.



80.

Mannheim, Nov. 29, 1777.

I RECEIVED this morning your letter of the 24th, and perceive
that you cannot reconcile yourself to the chances of good or bad
fortune, if, indeed, the latter is to befall us. Hitherto, we
four have neither been very lucky nor very unlucky, for which I
thank God. You make us many reproaches which we do not deserve.
We spend nothing but what is absolutely necessary, and as to what
is required on a journey, you know that as well or better than we
do. No one BUT MYSELF has been the cause of our remaining so long
in Munich; and had I been alone I should have stayed there
altogether. Why were we fourteen days in Augsburg? Surely you
cannot have got my letters from there? I wished to give a
concert. They played me false, so I thus lost eight days. I was
absolument determined to go away, but was not allowed, so strong
was the wish that I should give a concert. I wished to be urged
to do so, and I was urged. I gave the concert; this accounts for
the fourteen days. Why did we go direct to Mannheim? This I
answered in my last letter. Why are we still here? How can you
suppose that I would stay here without good cause? But my father,
at all events, should--Well! you shall hear my reasons and the
whole course of the affair; but I had quite resolved not to write
to you on the subject until I could say something decided, (which
even yet I cannot do,) on purpose to avoid causing you care and
anxiety, which I always strive to do, for I knew that uncertain
intelligence would only fret you. But when you ascribe this to my
negligence, thoughtlessness, and indolence, I can only regret
your having such an opinion of me, and from my heart grieve that
you so little know your son. I am not careless, I am only
prepared for the worst; so I can wait and bear everything
patiently, so long as my honor and my good name of Mozart remain
uninjured. But if it must be so, so let it be. I only beg that
you will neither rejoice nor lament prematurely; for whatever may
happen, all will be well if we only have health; for happiness
exists--merely in the imagination.

Last Thursday week I went in the forenoon to wait on Count
Savioli, and asked him if it were possible to induce the Elector
to keep me here this winter, as I was anxious to give lessons to
his children. His answer was, "I will suggest it to the Elector,
and if it depends on me, the thing will certainly be done." In
the afternoon I went to Cannabich's, and as I had gone to Savioli
by his advice, he immediately asked me if I had been there. I
told him everything, on which he said, "I should like you very
much to spend the winter with us, but still more to see you in
some permanent situation." I replied, "I could wish nothing
better than to be settled near you, but I don't see how it is
possible. You have already two Capellmeisters, so I don't know
what I could have, for I would not be subordinate to Vogler."
"That you would never be," said he. "Here not one of the
orchestra is under the Capellmeister, nor even under the
Intendant. The Elector might appoint you Chamber Court composer;
only wait a little, and I will speak to Count Savioli on the
subject." On the Thursday after there was a grand concert. When
the Count saw me, he apologized for not having yet spoken to the
Elector, these being still gala days; but as soon as they were
over (next Monday) he would certainly speak to his Royal
Highness. I let three days pass, and, still hearing nothing
whatever, I went to him to make inquiries. He said, "My good M.
Mozart, (this was yesterday, Friday,) today there was a chasse,
so it was impossible for me to ask the Elector, but to-morrow at
this hour I will certainly give you an answer." I begged him not
to forget it. To tell you the truth, when I left him I felt
rather indignant, so I resolved to take with me the easiest of my
six variations of the Fischer minuet, (which I wrote here for
this express purpose,) to present to the young Count, in order to
have an opportunity to speak to the Elector myself. When I went
there, you cannot conceive the delight of the governess, by whom
I was most politely received. When I produced the variations, and
said that they were intended for the young Count, she said, "Oh!
that is charming, but I hope you have something for the Countess
also." "Nothing as yet," said I, "but if I stay here long enough
to have time to write something I will do so." "A propos," said
she, "I am so glad that you stay the winter here." "I? I have not
heard a word of it." "That does surprise me; how very odd! for
the Elector told me so himself lately; he said, 'By the by,
Mozart remains here all winter.'" "Well, when he said so, he was
the only man who could say so, for without the Elector I of
course cannot remain here;" and then I told her the whole story.
We agreed that I should come the next day (that is, to-day) at
four o'clock, and bring some piece of music for the Countess. She
was to speak to the Elector before I came; and I should be
certain to meet him. I went today, but he had not been there at
all; but I shall go again to-morrow. I have written a Rondo for
the Countess. Have I not then sufficient cause to stay here and
await the result? As this important step is finally taken, ought
I at this moment to set off? I have now an opportunity of
speaking to the Elector myself. I shall most probably spend the
winter here, for I am a favorite with his Royal Highness, who
thinks highly of me, and knows what I can do. I hope to be able
to give you good news in my next letter. I entreat you once more
neither to rejoice nor to be uneasy too soon, and not to confide
the affair to any one except Herr Bullinger and my sister. I send
my sister the allegro and the andante of the sonata I wrote for
Madlle. Cannabich. The Rondo will follow shortly; the packet
would have been too heavy had I sent it with the others. You must
be satisfied with the original, for you can more easily get it
copied for six kreutzers a sheet than I for twenty-four. Is not
that dear? Adieu! Possibly you have heard some stray bits of this
sonata; for at Cannabich's it is sung three times a day at least,
played on the piano and violin, or whistled--only sotto voce, to
be sure.



81.

Mannheim, Dec. 3, 1777.

I CAN still write nothing certain about my fate here. Last
Monday, after going three days in succession to my ARCH pupils,
morning and afternoon, I had the good fortune at last to meet the
Elector. We all, indeed, thought that I had again come in vain,
as it was so late in the day, but at length we saw him coming.
The governess made the Countess seat herself at the piano, and I
placed myself beside her to give her a lesson, and it was thus
the Elector found us on entering. We rose, but he desired us to
continue the lesson. When she had finished playing, the governess
addressed him, saying that I had written a beautiful Rondo. I
played it, and it pleased him exceedingly. At last he said, "Do
you think that she will be able to learn it?" "Oh! yes," said I;
"I only wish I had the good fortune to teach it to her myself."
He smiled, and said, "I should also like it; but would it not be
prejudicial to her to have two masters?" "Oh, no! your Highness,"
said I; "it all depends on whether she has a good or a bad one. I
hope your Highness will place trust and confidence in me." "Oh,
assuredly," said he. The governess then said, "M. Mozart has also
written these variations on the Fischer minuet for the young
Count." I played them, and he seemed to like them much. He now
began to jest with the Countess. I thanked him for his present of
a watch. He said, "I must reflect on your wish; how long do you
intend to remain here?" My answer was, "As long as your Highness
commands me to do so;" and then the interview was at an end. I
went there again this morning, and was told that the Elector had
repeated yesterday, "Mozart stays here this winter." Now I am
fairly in for it; so you see I must wait.

I dined to-day (for the fourth time) with Wendling. Before
dinner, Count Savioli came in with Capellmeister Schweitzer, who
arrived yesterday evening. Savioli said to me, "I spoke again
yesterday to the Elector, but he has not yet made up his mind." I
answered, "I wish to say a few words to you privately;" so we
went to the window. I told him the doubt the Elector had
expressed, and complained of the affair dragging on so long, and
said how much I had already spent here, entreating him to
persuade the Elector to engage me permanently; for I fear that he
will give me so little during the winter that it will be
impossible for me to remain. "Let him give me work; for I like
work." He said he would certainly suggest it to him, but this
evening it was out of the question, as he was not to go to court;
to-morrow, however, he promised me a decided answer. Now, let
what will happen. If he does not engage me, I shall, at all
events, apply for a sum of money for my travelling expenses, as I
have no intention to make him a present of the Rondo and the
variations. I assure you I am very easy on the subject, because I
feel quite certain that, come what may, all will go right. I am
entirely submissive to the will of God.

Your letter of the 27th arrived yesterday, and I hope you
received the allegro and andante of the sonata. I now enclose the
Rondo. Schweitzer is a good, worthy, upright man, dry and candid
like our Haydn; only his mode of speaking is more polished. There
are some very beautiful things in his new opera, and I don't
doubt that it will prove a great success. "Alceste" is much
liked, and yet it is not half so fine as "Rosamunde." Being the
first German operetta no doubt contributed very much to its
popularity; but now--N. B., on minds chiefly attracted by
novelty--it scarcely makes the same impression. Herr Wieland,
whose poetry it is, is also to come here this winter. That is a
man I should indeed like to see. Who knows? Perhaps I may. When
you read this, dear papa, please God, all will be settled.

If I do stay here, I am going to Paris during Lent with Herr
Wendling, Herr Ramm, the hautboy-player, who plays admirably, and
Ballet-master Cauchery. Wendling assures me I shall never regret
it; he has been twice in Paris, and has only just returned from
there. He says, "It is, in fact, the only place where either real
fame or money is to be acquired. You are a man of genius; I will
put you on the right path. You must write an opera seria and
comique, an oratorio, and every kind of thing. Any one who
composes a couple of operas in Paris receives a certain sum
yearly. There is also the Concert Spirituel and the Academie des
Amateurs, where you get five louis-d'or for a symphony. If you
teach, the custom is three louis-d'or for twelve lessons; and
then you get your sonatas, trios, and quartets published by
subscription. Cannabich and Toeschi send a great part of their
music to Paris." Wendling is a man who understands travelling.
Write me your opinion of this scheme, I beg; it seems to me both
wise and profitable. I shall travel with a man who knows all the
ins and outs of Paris (as it now is) by heart, for it is very
much changed. I should spend very little--indeed, I believe not
one half of what I do at present, for I should only have to pay
for myself, as mamma would stay here, and probably with the
Wendlings.

On the 12th of this month, Herr Ritter, who plays the bassoon
beautifully, sets off for Paris. If I had been alone, this would
have been a famous opportunity for me; indeed, he spoke to me
himself about it. Ramm (hautboy-player) is a good, jolly, worthy
man, about thirty-five, who has travelled a great deal, so has
much experience. The first and best musicians here like me very
much, and respect me too. They always call me Herr Capellmeister.
I cannot say how much I regret not having at least the copy of a
mass with me, for I should certainly have had it performed,
having lately heard one of Holzbauer's, which is also in our
style. If I had only a copy of the Misericordias! But so it is,
and it can't be helped now. I would have had one transcribed
here, but copying does cost so much. Perhaps I should not have
got as much for the mass itself as I must have paid for the copy.
People here are by no means so very liberal.



82.

Mannheim, Dec. 6, 1777.

I CAN tell you nothing certain yet. I begin to be rather tired of
this joke; I am only curious to know the result. Count Savioli
has spoken three times to the Elector, and the answer was
invariably a shrug of the shoulders, and "I will give you an
answer presently, but--I have not yet made up my mind." My kind
friends here quite agree with me in thinking that this hesitation
and reserve are rather a favorable omen than the reverse. For if
the Elector was resolved not to engage me, he would have said so
at once; so I attribute the delay to Denari siamo un poco
scrocconi [we are a little stingy of our money]. Besides, I know
for certain that the Prince likes me; a buon canto, so we must
wait. I may now say that it will be very welcome to me if the
affair turns out well; if not, I shall much regret having
lingered here so long and spent so much money. At all events,
whatever the issue may be, it cannot be an evil one if it be the
will of God; and my daily prayer is that the result may be in
accordance with it. You have indeed, dear papa, rightly guessed
the chief cause of Herr Cannabich's friendship for me. There is,
however, another small matter in which he can make use of me--
namely, he is obliged to publish a collection of all his ballets
arranged for the piano. Now, he cannot possibly write these out
himself in such a manner that the work may be correct and yet
easy. For this purpose I am very welcome to him; (this was the
case already with one of his contredanses.) He has been out
shooting for the last week, and is not to return till next
Tuesday. Such things contribute, indeed, very much to our good
friendship; but, independent of this, he would at least never be
inimical to me, for he is very much changed. When a man comes to
a certain age, and sees his children grown up, he then no doubt
thinks a little differently. His daughter, who is fifteen, and
his eldest child, is a very pretty, pleasing girl. She has great
good sense for her age, and an engaging demeanor; she is rather
grave and does not talk much, but what she does say is always
amiable and good-natured. She caused me most indescribable
pleasure yesterday, by playing my sonata in the most admirable
manner. The andante (which must not be played QUICK) she executed
with the greatest possible feeling; and she likes to play it. You
know that I finished the first allegro when I had been only two
days here, and that I had then only seen Madlle. Cannabich once.
Young Danner asked me how I intended to compose the andante.
"Entirely in accordance with Madlle. Rose's character," said I.
When I played it, it seemed to please much. Danner mentioned
afterwards what I had said. And it is really so; she is just what
the andante is. To-day I dined for the sixth time with Wendling,
and for the second time in the company of Herr Schweitzer. To-
morrow, by way of a change, I dine there again; I actually have
my board there. I must now go to bed, so I wish you good-night.

I have this moment returned from Wendling's, and as soon as I
have posted this letter I am going back there, for the opera is
to be rehearsed in camera caritatis, as it were. I am going to
Cannabich's afterwards, at half-past six o'clock, to give my
usual daily music-lesson. A propos, I must correct a statement of
mine. I said yesterday that Madlle. Cannabich was fifteen; it
seems, however, that she is only just thirteen. Our kind regards
to all our friends, especially to Herr Bullinger.