Mozart: A Life in Letters: A Life in Letters
Page 25
Wolfgang Amadé Mozart
You’ll probably already have heard a little of the sonata, as it’s sung, banged out, fiddled and whistled at least 3 times a day at Cannabich’s. – Only sotto voce, of course.
[ Maria Anna Mozart’s postscript ]
My dear husband, I kiss you and Nannerl many 1000 times and ask you to give our best wishes to all our acquaintances, I’ll write more next time, but it’s turned midnight, addio, I remain your faithful wife
Maria Anna Mozart
66. Leopold Mozart to his wife and son, 4 December 1777, Salzburg
My Dear Wife and Dear Son,
I’ve no objection to your having to wait for what you told me about in your last letter, and there’s nothing more that can be said about all that has happened on your journey and that has turned out differently from what I’d expected and worked out to our disadvantage and even caused us obvious harm, as it is all over and done with and can no longer be changed. – But the fact that you, my son, write that all speculation is superfluous and of no avail as we cannot know what is to happen – this is indeed ill considered and was undoubtedly written unthinkingly. No sensible person – I shall not say no Christian – will deny that everything will and must happen according to God’s will. But does it follow from this that we should act blindly, live carefree lives, make no provisions for the future and simply wait for things to befall us of their own accord? – – Does God himself and, indeed, do all rational people not demand that in all our actions we consider their consequences and outcome, at least as far as our human powers of reason enable us to, and that we make every effort to see as far ahead as we can? – – If this is necessary in all our actions, how much more so is it in the present circumstances, on a journey? Or have you not already suffered the consequences of this? – – Is it enough for you to have taken the step with the elector in order to remain there throughout the winter? – – Should you not – shouldn’t you long ago have thought of a plan that can be implemented if things don’t work out: and shouldn’t you have told me about it long ago and learnt my views on it? – – And now you write – what? If we were after all to leave here we’ll go straight to Weilburg to the Princess of Nassau-Weilburg – for whom you wrote the sonatas in Holland1 – etc. – There we’ll stay as long as the officers’ table is to our liking – what sort of a tale is that? Like everything else you wrote, this is the language of a desperate man who is trying to console both himself and me. – – But there’s still a hope that you’ll receive 6 louis d’or, and that will make everything all right. – But my question to you now is whether you’re certain that the princess is there: she won’t be there without good reason as her husband2 is based in The Hague on account of his military office. Shouldn’t you have told me about this long ago? – Another question: wouldn’t you do better to go to Mainz – and from there to Weilburg via Frankfurt? After all, if you go from Mannheim to Weilburg, you’ll cross the Frankfurt road: and as you’re not staying in Weilburg for ever, the Mainz road will take you back through Frankfurt. If you first go to Mainz and then to Weilburg, you’ll have only a short distance from Weilburg to Koblenz, which will presumably take you via Nassau. Or do you intend to avoid Mainz, where we’ve so many good friends and where we earned 200 florins from 3 concerts, even without playing for the elector, M3 who was ill. Tell me, my dear son, are these useless speculations? – – Your dear good Mama told me she’d keep a careful note of your expenses. Good! I’ve never asked for a detailed account and never thought of demanding one: but when you arrived in Augsburg you should have written to say: We paid such and such at Albert’s in Munich, and such and such was spent on travelling expenses, so that we still have such and such a sum. From Augsb. you wrote to say that after taking account of the concert receipts you were about 20 florins out of pocket. In your 2nd letter from Mannheim you should at least have said that the journey cost us such and such an amount and we’re now left with – –, so that I could have made arrangements in good time – – was my arrangement to send you a letter of credit in Augsburg a useless speculation? – – Do you really think that Herr Herzog – who’s a good old friend of mine – would have provided you with money in response to all your letters from Mannheim if you’d not already given him a letter of credit? – – Certainly not! The most that he would have done would have been to make enquiries with me first. – – Why did I have to discover that you needed money only when you were in trouble? You wanted to wait to see what the elector gave you. Isn’t that so? Perhaps in order to spare me the worry – – but it would have caused me less worry if I’d been told everything honestly and in good time, as I know better than either of you how one must be prepared for all eventualities on such a journey in order not to be placed in some terrible predicament at the very moment when one least expects it. – At such times all your friends disappear! One must be cheerful; one must enjoy oneself! But one must also find time to give serious thought to these matters, and this must be your main concern when travelling and when not a single day should be allowed to pass to your disadvantage – – the days slip past – days which are in any case very short at present and which all cost money at an inn. Merciful heavens! You ask me not to speculate now that I’m 450 florins in debt entirely thanks to you two. – And you think that you may be able to put me in a good mood by telling me a hundred foolish jokes. I’m pleased that you’re in good spirits: but instead of the good wishes set out in the form of the alphabet, I’d have felt happier if you’d told me the reasons for, and the circumstances of, your journey to Weilburg and what you planned to do afterwards and, most of all, if you’d listened to my opinion; and this could have been done before a post day, as you can’t only just have hit on the idea, nor can you know independently that the princess is there, unless someone had already suggested the idea to you. In a word, it is no idle speculation when one has something in mind and formulates 2 or 3 plans and makes all the necessary arrangements in advance so that if one plan doesn’t work out, one can easily turn to another. Anyone who acts otherwise is an unintelligent or thoughtless person who, especially in today’s world, will always be left behind, no matter how clever he is, and who will even be unhappy as he will always be duped by flatterers, false friends and those who envy him. My son, to find one man in a 1000 who is your true friend for reasons other than self-interest is one of the greatest wonders of this world. Examine all who call themselves your friends or who make a show of friendship and you’ll find the reason why this is so. If they’re not motivated by self-interest on their own account, then they’ll be acting in the interests of some other friend whom they need; or they are your friends so that by singling you out they can annoy some third party. If nothing comes of Mannheim, you still have your plan to go to Mainz, Frankfurt, Weilburg, Koblenz etc.; one should always look for places as close to each other as possible so that, if you can, the journeys should be kept short and you can soon get to a place where you’ll find a source of income. If this letter doesn’t reach you in Mannheim and you’re already in Weilburg, I can’t help you. But if you’re still in Mannheim and have to leave, then Mama will see from the map that your best plan is to go to Mainz first, otherwise you’ll either have to forgo Mainz or retrace your steps a little. In Weilburg you need to bear in mind that you’ll not find a Catholic church there as everyone is Lutheran or Calvinist. So I’d prefer you not to spend too long there.
And who told you that you’d have to go through the forest of Spessart to get from Würzburg to Mannheim as the Spessart is near Aschaffenburg, between Fulda and Frankfurt? – – This is no doubt some other trick that Herr Beecke has played on you. Aschaffenburg and Würzburg are 10 miles apart. – It may be that one drives past the forest on the right-hand side for some hours as one approaches Mannheim. But there’s nothing near Würzburg, whether you’ve been there or not.
NB : I’ve another observation to make about any journey that you may choose to make from Weilburg to Koblenz, namely, that the road is across country
and will be safer than the one from Mainz to Koblenz, which is too near the Rhine. I now want to know all your other plans, I’d never have suspected that my own dear wife wouldn’t have given me the occasional accurate account of your travelling expenses, as I’ve twice asked about Albert’s bill and should also have been told about the bill from the landlord of the Lamb etc. etc. But I’m not allowed to know about all your expenses. And so I must askMama to write me a confidential letter on this point – I don’t want a wordy explanation but would just like to see from the landlord’s bill how people have been treating you and where all the money has gone. We must now give serious thought to the ways and means of getting you out of the present situation, of travelling as economically as possible and of making sensible arrangements, but at all events you must let me know at once what may be to our detriment or advantage. On no account must you sell the chaise. May God keep both you and me well. Nannerl and I kiss you many 100, 000, 000 times. I am your own husband and father
Mzt
Count Czernin4 has asked me to give you his best wishes. There was a rumour not only that the archbishop will be sending Haydn5 to Italy but that he had already wanted to send him to Bozen with Triendl.6 But Herr Triendl excused himself. I beg you, my dear Wolfg., consider everything and don’t always write about things when they’re already over and done with. Otherwise we’ll all be unhappy.
67. Mozart to his father, 10 December 1777, Mannheim
Mon très cher Père,
Nothing’s to be hoped for from the elector at present. Two days ago I attended the concert at court in order to get an answer. Count Savioli was clearly avoiding me, but I went over to him: when he saw me, he shrugged his shoulders. What, I said, still no reply? – – I’m sorry, he said, but unfortunately no. – – Eh bien, I said, the elector could have told me so before now. Yes, he said, but he wouldn’t have come to a decision even now if I’d not urged him to do so and pointed out that you’d been sitting around here for so long, getting through all your money at the inn. It’s that that annoys me too most of all, I retorted. It’s not very nice; but I’m most obliged to you, Count – he’s not called Your Excellency – for having so actively championed my cause, and I wonder if I could ask you to thank the elector on my behalf for his kind, if belated, reply. And I assured him that he’d never have regretted taking me on. Oh, he said, I’m more certain of that than you think. I then told Herr Wendling of the decision, he turned bright red and said very heatedly: we must find ways and means; you must remain here, for at least 2 months, until we can go to Paris together. As soon as Cannabich gets back from hunting tomorrow, we can discuss the matter further. With that I left the concert and went straight to see Madame Cannabich. While going there, I explained all this to the treasurer, who had left with me and who is a most excellent person and a good friend of mine. You can’t imagine how angry he became.
As soon as we set foot in the room, he interrupted me, saying: well, here’s someone who’s been treated by the court in its usual wonderful way. So nothing has come of it? said Madame.––I told them everything. They then told me about all manner of similar tricks played on people here. When Mlle Rosa – who was 3 rooms away, just dealing with the laundry – had finished, she came in and said: Is it convenient to you now? – It was time for her lesson. I’m at your command, I said. But, she said, we must have a really sensible lesson today. I agree, I retorted, as we can’t go on for much longer. Why’s that? – Why is that? – – Why? – She went over to her Mama, who told her. What? she said. It’s true – – I don’t believe it. Yes, yes, it’s true, I said. Then, adopting a very serious expression, she played my sonata.1 Believe me, I couldn’t stop crying. By the end, mother, daughter and treasurer were all in tears as she was playing the very sonata that’s the favourite of the whole household. Listen, said the treasurer, if the Herr Kapellmeister – they never call me anything else here – goes away, he’ll make us all cry. I must say that I’ve got some very good friends here, it’s in circumstances like these that you get to know who they are; they’re friends not just in words but in deeds.
Just listen to the following.
The next day I went to have lunch at Wendling’s as usual. He said to me: our Indian – he’s a Dutchman, a man of independent means, a lover of all the sciences and a great friend and admirer of mine – is a really exceptional individual.2 He’ll give you 200 florins if you’ll write 3 little, easy and short concertos and a couple of quartets for the flute. Through Cannabich you’ll get at least 2 pupils, who’ll pay well; you can write duets for keyboard and violin here and have them engraved by subscription. You can dine with us both at midday and in the evening. You can have self-contained quarters at the privy councillor’s;3 it won’t cost you anything. And we’ll find some inexpensive accommodation for your mother for the 2 months it takes for you to write home and explain all this; Mama will then travel home and we’ll go to Paris. Mama is happy with this, all that remains is your own agreement, of which I’m already so certain that if we had to leave straightaway, I’d go to Paris without waiting for an answer; for one can expect nothing more from so sensible a father who has always been so concerned for his children’s welfare. Herr Wendling, who sends you his best wishes, is a close friend of our own close friend, Herr Grimm. He told him a lot about me when he was here. It was after he’d left us in Salzburg. I’ll write to him as soon as I receive a reply to this letter. I was told by a stranger whom I met at table here that he’s now in Paris. As we shan’t be leaving before 6 March, I’d also ask you, if possible, to contact Herr Mesmer or someone else in Vienna and arrange for me to receive a letter for the queen of France:4 – but only if it can easily be done! – – otherwise it’s not really very important, although it’s true that it would be preferable. This is also something that Herr Wendling advised me to do. I imagine that what I’ve written will seem strange to you as you’re in a town where one’s used to having stupid enemies and weak or simple-minded friends who, because they are dependent on their miserable livelihood in Salzburg, continue to fawn on their superiors and as a result live from day to day. You see, that’s the reason why I’ve been writing such childish nonsense and jokes and why I’ve said nothing sensible, as I was waiting to see how things would turn out here in order to spare you any annoyance and protect my good friends, whom you may now blame for what has happened, even though they are innocent, and whom you may accuse of acting in an underhand way, although this is certainly not the case. I already know who is the cause! But I’ve been obliged by your letters to tell you the whole story. But I beg you not to upset yourself over this, it is God’s will. Consider only this all too certain truth that it is not always possible to do all that one is minded to do. One often thinks that something would be very good and that something else would be very bad and wicked, but when it happens, one often discovers the opposite. I must go to bed now. I’ve got enough to write during the next 2 months: 3 concertos, 2 quartets, 4 or 6 keyboard duets, and I also plan to write a big new mass5 and present it to the elector. Adieu. Please reply at once to all these points. I kiss your hands 100, 000 times and embrace my sister with all my heart. I am your most obedient son