Wolfgang Amadè Mozart
Invoice The 3 concertos, without keyboard parts. fl. kr.
109 sheets @ 8 kr. 14 32
The 3 keyboard parts.
33½ sheets @ 10 kr. 5 35
Fee for the 3 concertos.
18 ducats@ 4 fl. 30 kr. 81 –
The 3 symphonies
116½ sheets at 8 kr. 15 32
Customs and carriage 3 –
Total: 119 fl. 39 kr.
Mozart and Constanze’s third child, Johann Thomas Leopold, was born on 17 August 1786. He lived only three months, and died on 15 November. When Leopold wrote the following letter to Nannerl, he was still unaware of his grandson’s death.
154. Leopold Mozart to his daughter, 17 November 1786, Salzburg
Little Leopold is well!
And I? – Somewhat better since I shat out the 67th year of my life after drinking a laxative on my birthday;1 and I was so tempted to drive out to St Gilgen on the 15th, who knows what sometimes cures a man. I have to joke about it so that I don’t get depressed. I had to reply to one of your brother’s letters today,2 it tookme a lot of time to write it and so I can write only very little to you, – it’s late, I also want to go to the theatre today, as I can now get in free, and I’ve just finished my letter to Vienna. That I had to express myself very forcefully you can well imagine as he suggested nothing less than that I should take charge of his 2 children3 while he goes off on a tour of Germany and England in the middle of next carnival etc. – I’ve given him a piece of my mind and promised him the next instalment of my letter with the next post. Herr Müller, that good and honest maker of silhouettes, praised little Leopold to your brother, which is how he found out that the child is staying here, something I’d never told him: that’s how he or his wife hit on the idea. Of course it would suit them down to the ground – they could go off and travel at their convenience – they could die – – they could even remain in England – – and I’d have to go running after them with the children or chase up the payment for the children that he’s offering me for them and for the maids to look after them etc. – Basta! My excuse is forceful and instructive if he cares to make use of it. –
After the play at around 10 o’clock
Do give my thanks to Nannerl4 for her kind wishes, she wrote very nicely.
Heinrich sends his best wishes: – has he not asked my son to send him Ariadne auf Naxos? 5 – – –
Frau Feyerl, the baker’s wife, has died.
I’m sending you herewith a bit of childish nonsense to make you laugh, on one side it’s in the original Swabian – and on the other it’s written out in an intelligible form. Please send it back soon, it’s not mine. Also a book by Wieland,6 which you should read if you have a chance.
Wolfgang7 came to congratulate me and was so pleased that he couldn’t stop telling me about it. They also had an amazing Martinmas banquet with cakes, pastries, game, capons and wine etc. etc. –
The postman didn’t bring me the box, he’ll have taken it to Wolfgang. I’ve already had a new one made.
The 18th, at half past 7 in the morning.
Tresel has gradually managed to beg several lbs of candles that I’ll send with the glass carrier, assuming the woman doesn’t call too late, generally she says that she’s leaving within the hour. What can one do then? Often I wasn’t even at home. – And can one then write anything? If I’ve got time today or tomorrow, I’ll write in advance just in case the woman comes on Monday.
I’m sending you herewith the measurements of little Leopold’s bed. The whole piece of thread gives the length, whereas the width is from one knot to the other. This is the inside measurement of the bedstead. The mattress shouldn’t be any smaller but should in fact be somewhat larger because it will inflate when it’s full and will then be too narrow and too short. I hope to receive it soon as the cradle is very dangerous. I hope you’re keeping well! I kiss you both with all my heart, give my best wishes to the children. I am ever your honest father
Mozart
Herr Bullinger is here, he sends you his kind regards and wishes he could have seen you, but he can’t get away, he’s staying with the dean of the cathedral and will be leaving for Munich next week to take up his new post as tutor. There was a great to-do in Munich, the elector travelled to Mannheim at 4 in the morning of the 11th as a courier had brought news that the electress was close to death. – But she’s now better.8 Vogler’s opera, Castor and Pollux,9 will be performed after all as all the music has now arrived.
Leopold sends you a kiss. Nandl and Thresel kiss your hands, my best wishes to Lenerl.
Early in 1787 Mozart and Constanze made a visit to Prague, where Mozart had been invited to direct a performance of Le nozze di Figaro. He also gave a concert that included a new symphony (‘Prague’ K504), and received a commission from the impresario Pasquale Bondini for a new opera for the following autumn. The Mozarts returned to Vienna about 12 February, and on 24 March they moved to Landstrasse 224 (now 75 and 77).
155. Mozart to Gottfried von Jacquin, 15 January 1787, Prague
Dearest Friend,1 –
I’ve finally found a moment to write to you; – I’d planned to write four letters to Vienna as soon as I arrived, but in vain! – I was able to manage only one – to my mother-in-law – and even this was only half written. – My wife and Hofer2 had to finish it.
No sooner had we arrived – at 12 o’clock midday on Thursday the 11th – than we were rushed off our feet in order to be ready for lunch at 1. After the meal old Count Thun3 regaled us with some music that was performed by his own people and that lasted around 1½ hours. – This was real entertainment of a kind that I could enjoy every day. – At 6 I drove with Count Canal4 to what’s known as the Bretfeld Ball, where the most beautiful women of Prague habitually gather, – that would have been something for you, my friend! – I can just see you running – no, hobbling – after all these beautiful girls and women! – I didn’t dance or spoon with them. – First, because I was too tired, and the latter because of my ingrained diffidence; – but I was happy to watch all these people leaping around in sheer delight at the music of my Figaro which has been turned into nothing but contredanses and German dances; – here they talk of nothing but – Figaro; nothing is played, sung or whistled except – Figaro: no opera is as well attended as – Figaro and nothing but Figaro; a great honour for me, no doubt. – But to come back to my order of the day. As I got home late from the ball and was in any case tired and sleepy from my journey, it was entirely natural that I should have a long lie-in the next morning; and so it was. – As a result the whole of the next morning was again sine linea;5 – after lunch the count’s music must never be forgotten, and as a very good pianoforte had been put in my room that very day, you can easily imagine that I wouldn’t leave it unused and untouched that evening and that it would go without saying that we’d play a little quartet in caritatis camera6 – ‘and the beautiful ribbon we have too’7 and that in this way the whole evening would again be spent sine linea; and so it was. – Well, for all I care, you can complain to Morpheus, but this god has been very propitious to us both in Prague; – what the cause may have been I don’t know; but suffice it to say that we both slept very well. – Even so, we were able to get to Father Ungar’s8 by 11 o’clock for a worm’s-eye view of the Imperial and Royal Library and General Seminary; – by the end our eyes were nearly popping out of our heads and we thought we could hear a little stomach aria in our insides, so it was good that we were able to drive to Count Canal’s for lunch; – the evening came as a surprise to us sooner than you perhaps imagine; – enough, it was time to go to the opera. – We heard Le gare generose.9 – As far as the performance is concerned, I can’t tell you anything definite as I chattered a lot; quite why I chattered contrary to my usual custom is no doubt because of that. – Basta; this evening was again wasted al solito10 – not until today was I lucky enough to find a moment to be able to enquire after the wellbeing of your dear pa
rents and the whole of the Jacquin household. – I hope and pray with all my heart that you are all as well as we are. – I must frankly admit that – although I’m enjoying all possible courtesies and honours here and although Prague is indeed a very beautiful and pleasant place – I’m really longing to be back in Vienna again; and, believe me, the main reason for this is undoubtedly your house. – When I think that on my return I shall enjoy only briefly the pleasure of your valued company and shall then have to forgo this pleasure for such a long time – perhaps for ever – only then do I really feel the friendship and respect that I cherish for your entire house; – farewell now, dearest friend, dearest HinkitiHonky! – That’s your name, just so that you know. On our journey here we devised names for all of us, here they are: I: Pùnkitititi. – My wife: SchablaPumfa. Hofer: Rozka-Pumpa. Stadler: Nàtschibinìtschibi. Joseph my servant: Sagadaratà. My dog Gauckerl: Schamanuzky. – Madame Quallenberg: Runzifunzi. – Mlle Crux: PS. Ramlo: Schurimuri. Freystädtler: Gaulimauli.11 Please be so kind as to inform the latter of his name. – Adieu for now. My concert is at the theatre next Friday, the 19th; I’ll probably have to give a second one, which will unfortunately prolong my stay here.12 Please give my regards to your worthy parents and embrace your brother – who could be called Blatteririzi – 1000 times for me. – I kiss your sister13 – Signora Dinimininimi – 100,000 times and ask her to practise hard on her new pianoforte – but this reminder is unnecessary – as I must admit that I’ve never had a pupil who was as hard-working and as enthusiastic as she is – and I’m certainly looking forward to continuing my lessons with her according to my modest abilities. – By the way, if she wants to come tomorrow, I’ll certainly be at home at around 11 o’clock. –
But it’s now time to close, isn’t it? – You must have been thinking that for some time. – Farewell, best of men! – How I value our friendship – long may it last! – Write to me soon – but soon – and if you’re too idle to do so, send for Satmann and dictate the letter to him; – but it never comes from the heart as much as when one writes oneself; – well, I’ll see whether you’re as much my friend as I am yours. Ever your
Mozart
P.S.: In the event of your writing to me, address your letters to Count Thun’s Palace.
My wife sends her very best wishes to the whole of the Jacquin household, as does Herr Hofer.
N. B.: On Wednesday14 I’ll see and hear Figaro here – if I’ve not gone deaf and blind by then. – Maybe I’ll do so only after the opera– – –
156. Leopold Mozart to his daughter, 1 March 1787, Salzburg
That little Leopold is well you’ll have been told by the bailiff and his wife, who safely delivered the letter with the 5 florins 40 kreutzers and the music. I gave them 2 books by Muratori1 and threw in the programme for the concert at the Casino. I hope they don’t get the books dirty. – This Vanschenz2 played with so much expression both at the rehearsal at my own house and later in the quartets at court that we all thought we’d hear him give an outstanding concert yesterday, not least because it was the first time he’d played in public and the concerto was by a composer none of us had heard of: but we were all very disappointed. He played horribly badly and proved hopelessly inept. In short, not a single person applauded, quite the opposite, they all turned up their noses in their displeasure. And the hall was packed! –
On the Wednesday before Carnival Sunday the ball here was absolutely full as there were more than 470 people there. On Carnival Sunday there were some 320 and on Monday, too, around 315 etc.The faro3 bank lost so much that they no longer felt like holding another one in the Casino as they did last year. I hope to God this nonsense will end of its own accord and that young people won’t be tempted to gamble.
On Tuesday evening two days ago His Grace was left 50 ducats lighter. At half past 6 on Monday evening I received a note from Mme Storace, the Viennese theatre singer, announcing that she’d arrived at the Trinkstube. I found her with her mother, who’s English (the daughter was born in England), and also the Viennese theatre tenor O’Kelly, who’s also English, another Englishman whom I didn’t know but who’s probably the cicisbeo4 of mother or daughter, her brother Maestro Storace and a little Englishman called Attwood, who was sent to Vienna 2 years ago specially to have lessons with your brother.5 Madame Storace had a letter of introduction from Countess Gundacker Colloredo, and so she had to be heard and well treated, as she’s returning to the theatre in Vienna after a year-long stay in London. From 10 till 2 on Tuesday morning I galloped round the town to show them this and that. We didn’t get our midday meal till 2. In the evening she sang 3 arias and they left for Munich at 12 o’clock at night. They had 2 carriages, each with 4 post-horses, a servant rode on ahead as courier to order the 8 horses. And their luggage! Their journey must have cost a fortune! They all spoke English rather than Italian. The silliest thing is that my son had sent a letter for me to the house where his pupil Attwood was staying – he’d gone out and Madame Storace’s mother took delivery of it – and was then stupid enough to put it in one of the trunks or possibly even to lose it. Basta! The letter couldn’t be found. – I’ll have to write to your brother about it in the morning.
2 March. As for your brother, I hear he’s back in Vienna, I’d not heard from him since I wrote to him in Prague; I’m told that he made 1000 florins in Prague; that his last boy, Leopold, has died; and that, as I noted, he wants to travel to England but that his pupil6 is first going to make some definite plans for him in London, in other words, he’ll arrange a contract to write an opera or give a subscription concert etc. Madame Storace and the rest of the party will no doubt have been on at him about this, indeed I expect it was these people and his pupil who first gave him the idea of going to England with them. But after I’d written to him in a fatherly way, telling him that he’d earn nothing if he made the journey in summer as he’d arrive in England at the wrong time and that he should have at least 2000 florins in his pocket before undertaking such a journey and, finally, that unless he already had a firm engagement in London he’d have to take the risk of suffering hardship at least to begin with, no matter how clever he was – I expect he’ll have lost courage, particularly because it will, of course, be the soprano’s brother7 who’ll be writing an opera this time.
Now a delightful anecdote! Heinrich,8 who’s still running round Munich visiting people, came home on one occasion and said to me in the presence of everyone: Bologna gave me some news: he asked me if I knew that Frau Aman was pregnant by Petrazani; he’d been told this in a letter. I replied: It’s not to Bologna’s credit if he’s spreading such lies about a close friend. Everyone went very quiet! – How do you like that?–––
I’m sending you herewith 1 lb. of chocolate no. 8 @ 2 florins 30 kreuzers, I paid 10 kreuzers for the almond paste. The rest is all ready and waiting and I’ll make a note of it and hand it over if you send someone for it.
I kiss you with all my heart. Give my good wishes to the children. I am ever your honest father
Mozart
Today was the first time that the weather was warm enough for me to go for a walk.
Vanschenz has been taken on for only a year on 300 florins.
Heinrich sends his best wishes.
Tresel and Nandl kiss your hands. Best wishes to Lenerl.
157. Mozart to his father, 4 April 1787, Vienna1
Mon très cher Père,–
It’s most unfortunate that thanks to Madame Storace’s stupidity my letter failed to reach you; – among other things I said that I hoped you’d received my last letter – but as you don’t mention this letter – it was my 2nd one from Prague – I don’t know what to think; it’s entirely possible that one of Count Thun’s servants took it into his head to pocket the postage – but I’d rather pay twice the postage than know that my letters had fallen into the wrong hands, – Ramm and the 2 Fischers2 – the bass and the oboist from London – came here for Lent. – If the latter played no better when we knew him in Holland
than he does now, he certainly doesn’t deserve the reputation that he has. – But this just between ourselves. – I was then of an age when I wasn’t capable of forming an opinion – I remember only that I liked him enormously, as did the whole world; – but this is hardly surprising when you think that taste has changed enormously.– Perhaps he plays according to some older method. – But no! – Not to put too fine a point on it, he plays like a wretched pupil – young Andrß,3 who was taught by Fiala, plays a thousand times better – and then there are his4 concertos – of his own composition – every ritornello lasts a quarter of an hour – then the hero enters, lifting one leaden foot after another and then banging on the floor with each in turn – his tone is entirely nasal – and his held notes are like a tremulant on an organ. Could you ever have imagined this scene? – Yet it’s nothing but the truth – but a truth that I’m telling no one but you. – I’ve just this minute received news that has come as a great blow – not least because I’d assumed from your last letter that, praise be to God, you were feeling well; – but now I hear that you’re very ill! I don’t need to tell you how much I long to receive some reassuring news from you; and I’m sure that I shall – even though I’ve made a habit of always imagining the worst in all things – when looked at closely, death is the true goal of our lives, and so for a number of years I’ve familiarized myself with this true friend of man to such an extent that his image is not only no longer a source of terror to me but is comforting and consoling! And I give thanks to my God that He has given me the good fortune of finding an opportunity – you understand what I mean – of realizing that death is the key to our true happiness. – I never go to bed without thinking that – young as I am – I may no longer be alive the next morning – and yet no one who knows me can say that I’m sullen or sad in my dealings with them – and for this blessing I give daily thanks to my creator and with all my heart wish that all my fellow creatures may feel the same.5 – I’d already expressed my views on this point in the letter that Madame Storace packed away with her luggage, views occasioned by the sad death of my dearest and best friend, Count vonHatzfeld6 – he was just 31 – like me – I don’t feel sorry for him – ite these lines, you’re feeling better; but if, contrary to all expectation, you’re not better, I would ask you by...... not to conceal it from me but to tell me the plain truth or get someone else to write to me, so that I may hold you in my arms as fast as is humanly possible; I entreat you by all that is sacred to us. – But I hope that I shall soon receive a comforting word from you, and in this pleasant hope I and my wife and Carl kiss your hands 1000 times. I am ever your most obedient son
Mozart: A Life in Letters: A Life in Letters Page 56
