Mozart: A Life in Letters: A Life in Letters
Page 24
The Prince of Chiemsee9 had an attack of gout at Zeil in Swabia, otherwise he’d have been in Munich long ago, they’re now waiting for him there, and if you write to him now in Munich, he’ll undoubtedly already be there. You seem to like Munich more than Mannheim. I too would prefer Munich even though the orchestra in Mannheim is good; but I don’t like the fact that there are no singers there and that every year there are changes to the singers and maestri at the opera. Why don’t you write to Prince Zeil and ask him to suggest that the elector10 and Count Seeau should take you on for a year or 2, just as he does with castratos? Tell him that you’re not asking for a formal appointment – –, that you’re a young man who’s not looking for such an appointment but who is still young enough to make his way in the world but that you have an irresistible desire to serve the elector for as long as he’d like you to. You could write a separate letter to the prince, saying that it would do His Excellency Count Seeau no harm to have you make a commitment to arrange his German singspiels for him. And that you would give an assurance and a written undertaking not to importune or worry the elector to keep you on any longer than the agreed period, unless, that is, His Majesty was so inclined etc. – – My thinking behind all this is that you would be closer to Italy, so that if a scrittura 11 arrived and you were in Munich, he would let you go and your salary would continue. If no scrittura arrives, being in service is the best way to obtain one, not to mention the hundred other things you already know about. There’s an amazing number of castles and monasteries around Munich, with hunting, riding and driving as permanent amusements for those who are well known there; there are opportunities to write for the church and the theatre: and in winter there’s more in the way of entertainment than anywhere else that I know. – I must close. We both kiss your dear Mama and you. I am your old husband and father
Mozart
We didn’t receive a letter from you today, perhaps one will arrive tomorrow by Friday’s post. Who wrote the German opera?12 Who were the singers and what were they like? – Not a word! And the concert, who played and sang? Who were the brass and woodwind players? Was the music any good? Not a word! You’re extraordinary! – Oh yes, Mama wrote: at the opera the music was good. There we have it, but for the rest – guess! – Who played the violin concertos there? – – Herr Fränzl? – – Guess! And the philosophical and dried-out Raaff?13 – Guess!
64. Leopold Mozart to his son, 24 November 1777, Salzburg
Mon très cher Fils,
I really don’t know what to say, I was so stunned by your last letter of the 16th. In it you announced with a display of the greatest nonchalance that Herr Schmalz – presumably the father, brother or relation of Herr Schmalz1 of the leather factory in Munich or possibly even Herr Schmalz himself – had apologized for the fact that he had no instructions to give you any money. I can well believe that; and he was right: you should have asked Herr Herzog or the firm of Nocker& Schiedl to provide you with a little extra credit, as I used to do : for they had no orders from Hagenauer’s house to extend this credit elsewhere, and no businessman exceeds his literal orders: but it would have been done if you’d asked them. But this incident was described in such matter-of-fact and indifferent terms as though I’d whole chests full of money and should have been terribly annoyed that you’d not been paid at once. I won’t waste time with a long-winded account of our circumstances, you know them yourself, as does Mama, and in my letter of the 20th I listed the main items, although I forgot a sizeable sum that we owe to Hagenauer for goods but with whom we’re not writing up a single farthing more on credit. But what amazed me most of all on receiving your letter was that you suddenly came out with this story without telling me about it in your previous letter, in which you simply said that money would have been more useful and appropriate for your journey than a trinket, as you knew even then that you were low on funds. If Herr Schmalz had been willing, I would have been lumbered with instructions for payment without having received the slightest advance notice and at a time when I suspected nothing. That’s a pretty state of affairs indeed! –– I leave you to think it over, in the light of my present circumstances. You wrote to me from Augsb. that you’d lost only 27 florins. – According to my own calculations, you must still have 170 florins even if you’d lost 30 florins. Even if that stupid trip to Mannheim via Wallerstein2 cost you 70 florins, you should still be left with 100 florins. Even if it cost you more, can you really not have enough left to be able to make the journey to Mainz? You’d then be near Frankfurt and if absolutely necessary would be able to draw a little with your second letter of credit from Herr Bolongaro3 in Frankfurt. Then you’d only have to ask some businessman in Mainz who’s in contact with Herr Bolongaro; he would have undertaken to send the letter of credit to Herr Bolong. and to draw what you require.
Wouldn’t this have been more sensible than to settle down in Mannheim and squander your money to no avail, as this money would presumably have enabled you to make the journey, which would have cost perhaps 15 or 16 florins. It’s only 1¼ stages to Worms, 2 to Oppenheim and 1 to Mainz, so only 3¾ in all. And even if you’d had little or no money on your arrival, we have acquaintances there who would help you, and no gentleman need be ashamed if he hasn’t a farthing in his pocket but can produce a letter of credit: this can happen to the wealthiest and most distinguished people, indeed it’s a maxim when travelling that, if possible, you should carry only as much money as you need. I’m still in the dark and if I speak of Mainz it’s pure supposition as you haven’t done me the honour in any of your letters of telling me where you are intending to go, only at the very last moment did you write to me from Augsb. and say you were going to Wallerstein; and Herr Stein wrote to say that you left for Wallerstein and Mannheim at half past 7 on Sunday. But such things should be announced some time in advance, as I can sometimes make useful preparations and send reminders, just as I was at pains to do by writing to Herr Otto and Herr Pfeil in Frankfurt. –– Of course, your journey is no concern of mine! Isn’t that so? –– You could, of course, have taken a very different route from Mannheim: namely, Würzburg and from there to the Margrave of Darmstadt, then Frankfurt and Mainz. But how can I guess what you’re thinking or make suggestions as I’m never consulted and didn’t know how things stood in Mannheim, indeed to judge by your letter in which you had an opportunity to speak so familiarly with the elector I was bound to assume that you had very different plans and were intending to stay there for some time; all of which – whatever your opinions, inclinations, aims etc. may be – you should have reported honestly and in good time as it takes 12 days to receive and reply to a letter even if all goes smoothly. But you didn’t bother to consider this either as in your last letter of the 16th you wrote that I could continue to write to you in Mannheim, although it would be 12 days at the quickest before you received this letter, in other words, not until the 28th, by which time Herr Herzog will long since have replied and you will have left. But I did not receive your letter until Friday the 21st, as a present on our wedding day, and was unable therefore to reply until the 24th; you’ll have read this letter – God knows where – on 1 or 2 December. Neither of you must think that I don’t know how many incidental expenses are incurred on a journey and how money vanishes into thin air, especially when one’s overgenerous or too kind. My dear wife prided herself on getting up early, on not lingering and on doing everything quickly and economically. 16 days in Munich, 14 days in Augsburg and now, according to your letter of 16 Nov., 17 days in Mannheim, which, including the time spent waiting for a reply from Augsb., will turn out to be 3 weeks. That’s sorcery indeed; you’ve been away 8 weeks, in other words, 2 months, and you’re already in Mannheim? –– That’s incredibly quick! When we travelled to England, we spent 9 days in Munich, called on the elector and Duke Clemens, and had to wait for our present. – We were 15 days in Augsb., but we gave 3 concerts there, namely, on 28 and 30 June and 4 July. – We left Salzburg on 9 June and did not arrive in Munich until the 12th a
s new wheels had to be made in Wasserburg, yet in spite of this we were in Schwetzingen by 13 July, although we broke our journey in Ulm, Ludwigsburg and Bruchsal. So you see that your long and unnecessary stay has ruined everything, the most beautiful autumn in living memory has come and gone, and so far you’ve regarded your journey as no more than a pleasure trip and spent the time enjoying yourselves: now the bad weather, shorter days and cold are here, with more of the same to come, while your prospects and goals are now correspondingly expensive and distant.
You can’t spend the whole winter travelling; and if you plan to stay anywhere, it should be in a large town with lots of people where there are hopes and opportunities of earning some money: and where is such a place to be found in the whole of this region? – Apart from Paris: –– but life in Paris requires a completely different attitude to life, a different way of thinking, you have to be attentive and every day think of ways of earning money and exercise extreme politeness in order to ingratiate yourself with people of standing: I’ll write more on this in my next letter, in which I shall also set out my ideas on a quite different route that may be worth taking and which, I believe, will get you to Paris more quickly, namely, from Koblenz to Trier, Luxembourg, Sedan, where Herr Ziegenhagen, who visited us with Herr Wahler, has a textile factory. Perhaps he’ll be there now. Then Rethel, Rheims, Soissons and Paris. Note that from Paris to Rethel there are 22 French post stages. From Rethel it’s only a stone’s throw to Sedan – Luxembourg, too, isn’t far, and Trier is close to Luxembourg. Luxembourg is an imposing fortress and there’ll be lots of officers there. Rheims and Soissons are large towns. In all these places it will be relatively easy to earn some money in order to recover your travelling expenses as virtuosos rarely visit such places. By contrast, it’s 34 post stages from Brussels to Paris, and these cost us 20 louis d’or for 6 horses, without our receiving a farthing in return. And between Koblenz and Brussels there’s nothing that can be done, except perhaps with the elector of Cologne.4 Perhaps? – And what about Brussels?– – – – –
Meanwhile, whichever route you take, make sure that you obtain some letters of recommendation to take with you to Paris, it doesn’t matter who writes them – businessmen, courtiers etc. etc. And is there no French ambassador or resident in Mainz or Koblenz? I don’t think there is. You haven’t got any letters of recommendation, whereas I had a lot; they’re vital in providing you with both patronage and contacts. A journey like this is no joke, you’ve no experience of this sort of thing, you need to have other, more important thoughts on your mind than foolish games, you have to try to anticipate a hundred different things, otherwise you’ll suddenly find yourself in the shit without any money, –– and where you’ve no money you’ll have no friends either, even if you give a hundred lessons for nothing, and even if you write sonatas and spend every night fooling around from 10 till 12 instead of devoting yourself to more important matters. Then try asking for credit! – That’ll wipe the smile off your face. I’m not blaming you for a moment for placing the Cannabichs under an obligation to you by your acts of kindness, that was well done: but you should have devoted a few of your otherwise idle hours each evening to your father, who is so concerned about you, and sent him not simply a mishmash tossed off in a hurry but a proper, confidential and detailed account of the expenses incurred on your journey, of the money you still have left, of the journey you plan to take in future and of your intentions in Mannheim etc. etc. In short, you should have sought my advice; I hope you’ll be sensible enough to see this, for who has to shoulder this whole burden if not your poor old father? As I’ve already said, I didn’t receive your letter until the 21st and was unable to reply until today. Yesterday, the 23rd, I confessed my sins at Holy Trinity and with tears in my eyes commended you both to the protection of Almighty God. In the afternoon we had target practice. The prize was offered by Cajetan Antretter and I won. Herr Bullinger, who sends his best wishes, was also somewhat taken aback by your letter and it struck me that, in the present serious situation, he didn’t appreciate your joke about a public debt. At half past 5 I then went to see Herr Hagenauer to ask him that if Messrs Nocker & Schiedl had not informed him by post that they had transferred some money to you, he might care to write to Augsb. by today’s post. I returned to the shop this morning and spoke to Herr Joseph. I discovered that although they’d received letters from Nocker & Schiedl, there’d been no word about you. He promised to write today. I’ve now done all I can and hope that in the meantime you’ll have received some money, Nocker & Schiedl won’t send me a report until they know how much you’ve been given. NB: It’s always better when drawing money to accept not florins but the local currency, e.g., 6, 7 etc. louis d’or, carolins or whatever. I’ve now told you what was weighing on my mind, it is God’s own truth. You’ll have to learn for yourself that it is no joke to undertake a journey like this and to have to live on random income: above all you must pray most earnestly to God for good health, be on your guard against wicked people, earn money by every means that is known and available to you, and then spend it with the greatest care. I prefer to give too little to someone who is travelling with me and whom I may never see again and risk being called a skinflint, rather than have him laugh at me behind my back for giving him too much. I’ve no more paper, and I’m tired, especially my eyes.
Nannerl and I wish you the best of health and with all our hearts kiss you a million times. I am your old husband and father but NB not your son
Mozart
I hope you’ll have received my letter of the 20th in which I told you to write to Monsieur Grimm in Paris, also what you should write to the Prince of Chiemsee in Munich. By the next post I’ll send you a list of all the stages to Paris and my opinion etc., also a list of all our former acquaintances in Paris. Addio.
65. Mozart to his father, 29 November 1777, Mannheim
Mon très cher Père,
I received your letter of the 24th this morning and see from it that you’re unable to reconcile yourself to fate, be it good or bad, when it takes us by surprise; until now, and as things stand, the four of us have never been happy or unhappy, and for that I thank God. You reproach us both for many things, without our deserving it. We are not incurring any expenses that are not necessary; and what is necessary when travelling you know as well as we do, if not better. That we stayed so long in Munich was the fault of no one but myself ; and if I’d been alone, I’d certainly have stayed in Munich. Why did we spend 2 weeks in Augsburg? –– I’m tempted to think that you didn’t receive my letters from Augsburg. –– I wanted to give a concert – I was let down; meanwhile a whole week went by. I was absolutely determined to leave. They wouldn’t let me. They wanted me to give a concert; I wanted them to beg me. And so they did. I gave a concert. There are your 2 weeks. Why did we go straight to Mannheim? –– I answered this question in my last letter. Why are we still here? –– Yes –– can you really think that I’d remain somewhere for no reason? –– But I could have told my father –– all right, you shall know the reason and indeed the whole course of events. But God knows that I had no wish to speak about it because I was unable to go into detail – any more than I can today – and I know you well enough to appreciate that a vague account would have caused you worry and distress, something I’ve always tried to avoid; but if you ascribe the cause to my negligence, thoughtlessness and indolence, I can only thank you for your high opinion of me and sincerely regret that you don’t know your own son.
I’m not thoughtless but am prepared for anything and as a result can wait patiently for whatever the future holds in store, and I’ll be able to endure it –– as long as my honour and the good name of Mozart don’t suffer in consequence. Well, if it must be so, then let it be so. But I must ask you at the outset not to rejoice or grieve prematurely; for whatever happens, all is well as long as we remain healthy; for happiness consists –– simply in our imagination. Last Tuesday week, the 18th, the day before St Elisabeth’s Day, I saw Count Sav
ioli in the morning and asked him if there was any chance that the elector would keep me here this winter? –– I wanted to teach the young princes. He said yes, I’ll suggest it to the elector; and if it’s up to me, it will certainly happen. That afternoon I saw Cannabich and as it was at his suggestion that I’d been to see the count, he asked me at once if I’d been there. – I told him all that had happened, he said to me I’d very much like you to spend the winter here with us, but I’d like it even more if you had a proper, permanent appointment. I said that there was nothing I’d like more than to be always near them but that I really didn’t know how it would be possible for me to stay permanently. You’ve already got two Kapellmeisters, 1 so I don’t know what I could do, as I wouldn’t like to be under Vogler! Nor shall you, he said. None of the members of the orchestra here is under the Kapellmeister or even under the intendant.2 The elector could make you his chamber composer. Wait, I’ll speak to the count about it. There was a big concert on Thursday. When the count saw me, he apologized for not having said anything, but the galas were still going on; but as soon as the galas were over, namely, on Monday, he would certainly speak to the elector. I left it for 3 days, and as I’d heard nothing, I went to see him in order to make enquiries. He said: My dear Monsieur Mozart (this was Friday, namely, yesterday), there was a hunt today so I’ve been unable to ask the elector; but by this time tomorrow I shall certainly be able to give you an answer: I begged him not to forget. To tell the truth, I was rather angry when I left him and decided to take the young count3 my six easiest variations on Fischer’s minuet4 – which I’d already had copied out here for this very purpose – in order to have an opportunity to speak to the elector in person. When I arrived, you can’t imagine how pleased the governess was to see me. I received a most courteous welcome. When I took out the variations and said that they were for the count, she said Oh, that’s good of you; but have you also got something for the countess?5 –– Not yet, I said, but if I were to stay here long enough to write something, I’l l––By the way, she said, I’m glad that you’ll be staying here all winter. Me? –– I didn’t know that! –– That surprises me. It’s curious. The elector himself told me so recently. By the way, he said, Mozart is staying here this winter. Well, if he did indeed say that, then he’s the one person who can say it, for without the elector I certainly can’t remain here. I told her the whole story. We agreed that I’d return the next day – namely, today – after 4 o’clock and bring something for the countess. You’ll speak to the elector – before I arrive – and he’ll still be with you when I get there. I went back there today, but he didn’t come. But I’ll go again tomorrow. I’ve written a rondeau6 for the countess. Don’t I have reason enough to remain here and await the outcome? –– Should I leave now that the greatest step has been taken? –– I now have a chance to speak to the elector himself. I think I shall probably remain here all winter as the elector is fond of me, he thinks highly of me and knows what I can do. I hope to be able to give you some good news in my next letter. I beg you once again not to rejoice or worry too soon and to confide this story in no one except Herr Bullinger and my sister. I’m sending my sister the allegro and andante from the sonata for Mlle Cannabich.7 The rondeau will follow shortly. It would have been too much to send them all together. You’ll have to make do with the original; you can have it copied more easily at 6 kreuzers a page than I can at 24 kreuzers.8 Don’t you find that expensive? –– Adieu. I kiss your hands 100, 000 times and embrace my sister with all my heart. I am your obedient son