Mozart: A Life in Letters: A Life in Letters
Page 22
Wolfgang Amadé Mozart
[ Postscript added by his cousin ]
Dearest Uncle,
I can’t begin to tell you how pleased I was at the safe arrival of my aunt and such a delightful cousin, and my only regret is that we’ll soon be losing such noble friends, who’ve shown us such kindness, we’re only sorry not to have had the good fortune to see you here with my aunt; my parents send their most humble good wishes to my uncle and cousin and hope that you’re well, something we shall always hope, please give my best wishes to my cousin and ask her always to remain friends with me, just as I flatter myself that she may always be well disposed towards me, I have the honour of sending you my best wishes and of remaining, most respectfully,
Your devoted servant
and cousin M A Mozart
Father can’t remember if he told you that on 31 May 1777 he gave Herr Lotter 4 copies of your violin tutor and another 2 on 13 Aug. 1777.
[ Mozart’s postscript on the envelope ]
Monsieur Novac arrived here today and sends you all his best wishes. Especially to Mlle Katherl. Next time I’ll write a more cheerful letter. Next Wednesday I’m giving a concert in Count Fugger’s hall. My dear cousin sends you her best wishes. All 3 of us are now going to Herr Stein’s for lunch. The only thing that worries me is the accompaniment at my concert as the orchestra here is truly awful. I must close as it’s already 11 o’clock. I kiss Papa’s hands 100, 000 times, and I embrace my sister, like it or not, I am, I wot, not cold or hot,
your most obedient son W. A. Mozart
Best wishes a tutti tutti tutti
58. Mozart to his father, 17 October 1777, Augsburg
Mon très cher Pèe,
I must start with Stein’s pianofortes. Before I saw any of Stein’s work, I’d always preferred Späth’s1 pianos; but now I prefer Stein’ as they damp so much better than the Regensburg instruments. If I strike hard, it doesn’t matter whether I keep my finger down or raise it, the sound ceases the moment I produce it. However I attack the keys, the tone is always even. It doesn’t produce a clattering sound, it doesn’t get louder or softer or fail to sound at all; in a word, it’s always even. It’s true, he won’t part with a pianoforte like this for under 300 florins, but the effort and labour that he expends on it can’t be paid for. A particular feature of his instruments is their escape action. Not one maker in a hundred bothers with this. But without escape action it’s impossible for a pianoforte not to produce a clattering sound or to go on sounding after the note has been struck; when you strike the keys, his hammers fall back again the moment they hit the strings, whether you hold down the keys or release them. He told me that only when he’s finished making a piano like this does he sit down and try out all the passagework, runs and leaps, and, using a shave, works away at the instrument until it can do everything. For he works only to serve the music, not just for his own profit, otherwise he’d be finished at once.
He often says that if he weren’t such a great music lover and didn’t have some slight skill on the instrument, he’d long since have run out of patience with his work; but he loves an instrument that never lets the player down and that will last. His pianos will really last. He guarantees that the sounding board won’t break or crack. Once he’s finished making a sounding board for a piano he puts it outside, exposing it to the air, rain, snow, heat of the sun and all the devils in order for it to crack, and then he inserts wedges, which he glues in, so that it’s very strong and firm. He’s perfectly happy for it to crack as he’s then assured that nothing more can happen to it. Indeed, he often cuts into it himself and then glues it back together again and makes it really strong. He has completed three such pianofortes. Not until today did I play on one of them again. Today – the 17th – we had lunch with young Herr Gasser, a young and handsome widower who’s lost his young and beautiful wife. They’d been married for only 2 years. He’s a most excellent and polite young man. We were splendidly entertained. Also there was a colleague of Abbé Henri, Bullinger and Wieshofer, an ex-Jesuit who’s now Kapellmeister at the cathedral here. He knows Herr Schachtner 2 very well, he was his choirmaster in Ingolstadt. He’s called Pater Gerbl.3 I’m to give his best wishes to Herr Schachtner. After lunch Herr Gasser and I went to Herr Stein’s, where we were accompanied by one of his sisters-in-law as well as Mama and our cousin. At 4 o’clock we were joined by the Kapellmeister and Herr Schmidbaur, the organist at St Ulrich’s, a fine old gentleman who’s very well-spoken; and I then sight-read a sonata by Beecke4 that was quite hard and miserable al solito ;5 I can’t begin to tell you how the Kapellmeister and organist crossed themselves. Both here and in Munich I’ve played my 6 sonatas many times from memory. I played the fifth one in G at the aristocrats’ concert in the Bauernstube.6 The last one, in D, sounds amazing on Stein’s pianoforte. The device that you depress with your knee is also better made on his instrument than on others. I scarcely need to touch it and it works; and as soon as you remove your knee even a little, you no longer hear the slightest reverberation. Tomorrow I may get round to his organs – – I mean, to write about them ; I’m saving up his little daughter till the end. When I told Herr Stein that I’d like to play on his organ as the organ was my passion, he was very surprised and said: What, a man like you, so great a keyboard player wants to play on an instrument that has no douceur, no expression, no piano or forte but always sounds the same? – – None of that matters. In my eyes and ears the organ is the king of instruments. Well, as you like. We went off together. I could already tell from what he said that he didn’t think I’d do much on his organ and that – for example – I’d play in a way more suited to a piano. He told me that Schubart7 had asked to be shown his organ, and I was afraid – he said – as Schubart had told everyone, and the church was quite full; for I thought he’d be all spirit, fire and speed, none of which works on the organ; but as soon as he started I changed my mind. I said only this: What do you think, Herr Stein? Do you think I’ll run all over the organ? – – Oh, you, that’s quite different. We reached the choir. I began to improvise, by which point he was already laughing, and then a fugue. I can well believe – he said – that you enjoy playing the organ if you play like that – – at first the pedal was a little strange as it wasn’t divided. It began with C, then D, E in the same row. But with us D and E are above, as E flat and F sharp are here. But I soon got used to it. I also played on the old organ at St Ulrich’s. The steps up to it are a nightmare. I asked if someone could play on it for me as I wanted to go down and listen. From up there the organ is totally ineffectual. But I could make nothing of it, as the young choirmaster, a priest, played only scales, so it was impossible to form any impression. And when he tried to play some chords, he produced only discords as it was out of tune. After that we had to go to a coffee-room as my mother and cousin and Herr Stein were with us. A certain Pater Aemilian, 8 an arrogant ass and a simpleton of his profession, was in an especially hearty mood. He kept wanting to joke with my cousin, but she just made fun of him – – finally, when he was drunk (which didn’t take long), he started to talk about music. He sang a canon and I said I’d never in my whole life heard a finer one. I said I’m sorry, I can’t join in as I’ve no natural gift for intoning. That doesn’t matter, he said. He started. I was the third voice, but I made up some very different words, for example, O you prick, lick my arse. Sotto voce to my cousin. We laughed about it for half an hour. He said to me: if only we could have spent longer together. I’d like to discuss the art of composition with you. Then the discussion would soon be over, I said. Get lost. To be continued.
W. A. Mozart
59. Leopold Mozart to his son, 23 October 1777, Salzburg
Mon très cher Fils,
I must congratulate you on your name day!1 But what can I wish you today that I don’t always wish you? –– I wish you the grace of God, that it may accompany you everywhere and never abandon you, as indeed it will never do if you strive to fulfil the obligations of a true Catholic Ch
ristian.
You know me. – I’m no pedant, I’m not holier than thou, and I’m certainly no hypocrite: but you surely won’t refuse a request from your father? – It is this: that you should be concerned for your soul’s welfare and not cause your father any anxiety in his hour of death, so that at that difficult time he won’t have to reproach himself for neglecting your soul’s salvation. Farewell! Be happy! Lead a sensible life! Honour and esteem your mother, who has much toil in her old age, love me as I love you. Your truly solicitous father
Leop. Mozart
Mozart and his mother left Augsburg on 26 October, arriving at Mannheim – electoral seat of the Palatinate since 1720 and widely considered one of the most brilliant courts in Europe – on 30 October.
60. Mozart to his father, 4 November 1777, Mannheim
Monsieur mon très cher Père,
We wrote to you the day before we left Augsburg, but you mustn’t have received it yet. I hope it hasn’t got lost as I wrote a lot. It contains a description of the whole concert;1 there’s also something in it about Stein’s daughter, as well as my thanks for your congratulations on my name day. But I hope you’ll have received it by now. This is my second letter from Mannheim. I’ve been to see Cannabich2 every day so far. Today Mama came with me. He’s completely changed, the whole orchestra says so too. He’s very taken with me. He has a daughter who plays the keyboard very well, and in order to make a true friend of him, I’m now working on a sonata for his daughter, 3 it’s finished except for the rondeau. As soon as I’d completed the opening allegro and the andante, I took them round to their house in person and played them; Papa can’t imagine how much they applauded the sonata. Some members of the orchestra were there, young Danner, 4 a horn player by the name of Lang, and the oboist, whose name I’ve forgotten but who plays extremely well, with an attractive and refined tone.5 I made him a present of my oboe concerto. It’s being copied out in a room at Cannabich’s. The fellow is beside himself with delight; I played him the concerto on the pianoforte at Cannabich’s today; and although everyone knew it was by me, they still liked it a lot. No one said that it wasn’t well written on the grounds that the people here don’t understand these things – – they should only ask the archbishop, who’ll waste no time in putting them right.
I played all six of my sonatas6 at Cannabich’s today. Herr Kapellmeister Holzbauer himself took me to see the intendant, Count Savioli, 7 today. Cannabich was there too. Herr Holzbauer spoke to the count in Italian, saying that I’d like to have the privilege of being heard by His Excellency the Elector.8 I was here 15 years ago.9 I was then 7, but now I’m older and bigger and also more knowledgeable about music. Ah, said the count, that is – – heaven knows who he thought I was, but Cannabich interrupted him, I pretended not to have heard and started talking to some other people. But I noticed that as he was speaking to him he looked very serious. The count then said to me, I hear you play the keyboard very passably. I bowed. I must now tell you about the music here. On Saturday – All Saints’ Day – I was at High Mass in the chapel. The orchestra is both large and very good. On each side there are 10 or 11 violins, 4 violas, 2 oboes, 2 flutes and 2 clarinets, 2 horns, 4 cellos, 4 bassoons, 4 double basses and trumpets and timpani. They can perform wonderful music, but I wouldn’t care to have one of my masses played here. Why?– – Because of its brevity? – No, everything has to be brief here as well10 – – because of the church style? – No, not that either. But because, as things stand at present, you have to write in the main for the instruments, because you can’t imagine anything worse than the voices here. 6 sopranos, 6 altos, 6 tenors and 6 basses against 20 violins and 12 basses is in the exact ratio of 0 to 1. Isn’t that true, Herr Bullinger? – – This is because the Italians are now held in wretchedly low regard here. They’ve only 2 castratos, and even these are already old. They’re simply being left to die out. The soprano would rather sing the alto part. He can no longer get his top notes. The few boys that they have here are pitiful. The tenors and basses are like our funeral singers. The assistant Kapellmeister Vogler, 11 who wrote the recent mass, is a musical joker with a very high opinion of himself but few abilities. The whole orchestra dislikes him. But today – Sunday – I heard a mass by Holzbauer that’s already 26 years old but which is actually very good. He writes very well. A good church style. Writes well for voices and instruments; and good fugues. They’ve 2 organists here who alone would be worth making a special visit to Mannheim. I had a chance to hear them properly as it’s not usual to include a Benedictus here, instead the organist has to keep playing. On the first occasion I heard the second organist and the second time it was the first one. But in my own view I think even more highly of the 2nd than the first. When I heard him, I asked who was playing the organ? – Our 2nd organist. He played wretchedly. When I heard the other one, I again asked who it was. – – Our first one. He played even more wretchedly. I think that if you put them together, something even worse would emerge. Watching these gentlemen is enough to make you die laughing. When he’s at the organ, the second one is like a child having a shit; you can see from his face what he’s up to. But the first one at least wears glasses. I went and stood by the organ and watched him with the aim of learning something from him; at every note he raises his hands as high as he can. But his great strength is to play in 6 parts – except that mostly he just adds fifths and octaves. He often omits the right hand as a joke and plays with only his left hand, in a word he can do as he likes, he has complete mastery over his organ.
Mama has asked me to tell Nannerl that the lining for the coat is in the large box, on the right-hand side and at the very bottom; there’ll be all sorts of patches on top of it. Black, white, yellow, brown, red, green, blue etc. Mama sends her best wishes to you all.
She can’t write as she still has to say her office. We got back home so late from the rehearsal for the main opera.12 The cotton thread isn’t in skeins but in a ball, wrapped in a blue cloth. Yes, that’s exactly how it is. Tomorrow, after High Mass, I have to see the stern electress13 who absolutely insists on teaching me to knit; I’m really worried about it. Both she and His Excellency the Elector want me to knit in public at the great gala scumcert next Thursday evening. The young princess, who’s been passed off as the elector’s daughter, 14 also knits very nicely; Duke Zweibrücken and his missus arrived here at 8 o’clock on the dot. By the way, Mama and I ask Papa very nicely to be so kind as to send a souvenir to our dear cousin. We both regretted that we’d nothing with us, but we promised to write to Papa and ask him to send her something. Or, rather, two things. From Mama, something like a double headscarf similar to Mama’s and from me a trinket. A box or toothpick case etc or whatever you like, as long as it’s beautiful; for she deserves it. She and her father went to a lot of trouble and spent a lot of time with us. My uncle collected the money at the concert. Addio. Baccio le mani di vostra Paternità, ed abbraccio con leggiertà la mia sorella, e facendo i miei Complimenti da per tutto sono di tutto Cuore 15
Wolfgango Amadeo Mozart
[ Maria Anna Mozart’s postscript on the envelope ]
A certain Signor Gervasio and his wife, who knows you from Holland, congratulate you on your virtuoso of a son, he plays the mandolin and she sings, they gave a concert today. Best wishes to the whole of Salzburg, especially our true friends, Herr Bullinger and Mistress Sallerl.
[ Mozart’s postscript on the envelope ]
Katherl Gilowsky, Frau von Gerlichs, Herr von Heffner, Frau von Heffner, Frau von Schiedenhofen, Herr Gschwendtner, Herr Sandner and all who are dead. The targets, 16 if it’s not too late, I should like to be as follows: a small man with fair hair, bending over and showing his bare arse. From his mouth come the words: Enjoy the spread. The other should be shown in boots and spurs, a red suit and a fine wig according to the latest fashion; he must be of medium height and positioned in such a way that he appears to be licking the other man’s arse. From his mouth come the words: Ah, there’s nothing to beat it. Just
like this, please.
If not this time, then another time.
61. Mozart to Maria Anna Thekla Mozart, 5 November 1777, Mannheim
My dearest little cousin dozen,
I’ve duly received retrieved your kind letter and see free from it that my uncle furuncle, aunt can’t and you stew are very well tell; we too, thank God, are in good health stealth. Today I got spot the letter better from my Papa haha. I hope you’ll have received aggrieved the letter wetter I sent you from Mannheim. All the better, better the all. But now for something sensible.
I’m very sorry to hear that the prelate pellet1 has had another stroke broke, but I hope that with God’s sod’s help the consequences won’t be serious deleterious. You tell me knee that you’ll perpetrate the promise that you gave me before I left Augsburg2 and do so soon moon; well, I certainly look backwards to that. You also write, nay, disclose, reveal, announce, let me know, declare, make it abundantly plain, demand, desire, wish, want, indicate, order, hint, inform me, tell me that I should also send my portrait to you screw. Eh bien, I’ll certainly send spend it to you. Oui, par ma la fois, I’ll shit on your nose so it runs down your chin. By the way, have you got the spuni cuni fait too? – – – What? – – Do you still love me – – I think you do. All the better, better the all. Well, that’s the way of the world, or so I’m told; Tom has the purse, and Dick has the gold; which do you prefer? – – It’s me, isn’t it? – – I think it is. But now it gets worse. By the way, don’t you want to go and see Herr Gold schmid again soon? – But what’ll you do there? – – What? – – Nothing! – – Just ask him about the spuni cuni fait, nothing else. Nothing else?– – – Very well; all right. Long live all those who – who – – who – – – how does it go on? – – Now I wish you good night, may your bed burst with shite; sleep sound as a log with your arse in your gob; now I’m off to fool about, then I’ll sleep a bit, no doubt. Tomorrow we’ll talk more sensibly defensibly; I’ve things of lots to tell you, you simply believe it can’t, but tomorrow you hear it will. Till then, goodbye, ow, my arse is burning like fire! What can it mean? – – Perhaps some shit wants to get out? – Yes, yes, shit, I know you, see you, taste you – – and – – what’s that? – – Is it possible? – – Ye gods! – – Can I believe my ears? – – Yes, indeed, it’s – – what a long, sad sound! – – Today written I’ve letter fifth the is this. Yesterday I spoke with the strict electress and tomorrow, the 6th, I’m playing at the great gala concert, and then I’ll play again for her in private, or so the tresselec tells me. Now for something sensible!