I can’t tell you how pleased I was to receive the news that the money has arrived safely;1 – I don’t remember telling you to settle up everything! As a sensible creature, how could I ever have said that? – If I did, I must have been completely bound up in my own thoughts – which is quite possible as I’ve so many important things on my mind at present. – My intention was that you should pay only for the baths. – The rest is for your own use – – Everything else that still has to be paid for and that I’ve already worked out for myself I’ll sort out when I get back. – Even as I write these lines, Blanchard will either go up– or else he’ll fool the Viennese for a 3rd time!2 –
All this to-do with Blanchard is most unwelcome to me today – it’s preventing me from finishing off my business. – N. N. promised to come and see me before driving out there – but he didn’t come – perhaps he’ll come when the fun is over – I’ll wait till 2 – then I’ll throw some food down inside me – and then set off in search of him. – How unpleasant life can be! – Patience! Things will get better – I’ll then rest in your arms! –
I’m grateful to you for your advice not to rely entirely on N. N. – But in such cases one has to deal with just one person – if you turn to 2 or 3 and if the deal getsout – others, withwhom you can’t then negotiate, take you for a fool or at least someone who can’t be relied on.
– But for now you can give me no greater pleasure than to be contented and cheerful – for if I know for certain that you want for nothing– all my labours are welcome and acceptable; – for even the most disastrous and complicated situation in which I might find myself becomes a mere trifle if only I know that you’re well and cheerful.– And now farewell – make good use of your table fool – think of me and talk about me often – love me for ever as I love you and always be my Stanzi Marini, just as I shall always be your
Stu! – Knaller Paller –
Schnip – Schnap – Schnur –
Schnepeperl.
Snai! –
Give N. N.3 a box on the ears and say you had to swat a fly that
I’d seen! – Adieu. Catch them – catch them––bi–bi–bi 3 kisses, as sweet as sugar, are flying your way! – In mid-July Mozart was commissioned by Domenico Guardasoni to write the opera La clemenza di Tito (‘The clemency of Titus’) to celebrate the coronation of Leopold II as king of Bohemia and Hungary in Prague; the commission had first been offered to Salieri, who had refused it. Mozart appears to have taken about six weeks to compose the score, to a libretto adapted from Metastasio’s. At about the same time he was anonymously commissioned by Count Franz von Walsegg-Stuppach (1763–1827) to compose a Requiem in memory of his wife, Anna, who had died on 14 February 1791. The Mozarts’ sixth, and second surviving, child, Franz Xaver Wolfgang (1791–1844), was born on 26 July. A month later, Mozart, Constanze and Süssmayr travelled to Prague, arriving on 28 August. Don Giovanni was performed on 2 September and La clemenza di Tito on 6 September. Mozart returned to Vienna about mid-September and completed Die Zauberflöte, which was premiered on 30 September at Schikaneder’s Freihaus Theater auf der Wieden. Constanze was once again in Baden.
181. Mozart to his wife, 7 and 8 October 1791, Vienna
Friday at half past 10 at night.
Dearest, most beloved little Wife,–
I’ve just got back from the opera;1 – it was as full as ever. – The duet Mann und Weib etc. and the glockenspiel2 in the first act were encored at usual – also the boys’ trio in the 2nd act3 – but what I like most of all is the silent approval! – You can really see how much this opera continues to rise in people’s estimation. Now for an account of what I’ve been doing; – as soon as you’d sailed off, I played 2 games of billiards with Herr von Mozart, who wrote the opera for Schikaneder. – I then sold my nag for 14 ducats. – I then got Joseph4 to call Primus and fetch me some black coffee, over which I smoked a splendid pipe of tobacco; then I instrumented almost the whole of Stadler’s rondo.5 Meanwhile I’ve received a letter from Stadler in Prague; – the Duscheks are all well; – I don’t think she can have received any of your letters, hard though it is to believe! – Enough – they’ve all heard of the wonderful reception of my German opera. –
The strangest thing is that on the very evening that my new opera was being performed for the first time to such acclaim, Tito was being performed for the last time in Prague, also to extraordinary acclaim. – All the numbers were applauded. – Bedini6 sang better than ever. -The little duet in A7 that the 2 girls sing was repeated – and if they hadn’t spared Marchetti,8 they’d also have repeated the rondo.9 – People called out bravo to Stodla10 from the stalls and even from the orchestra – O Bohemian miracle! he writes – but I really made an effort, he writes; – Stodla also wrote that […]11 and I can now see that he’s an ass – […] you understand, not Stodla – – who’s only a bit of an ass – whereas […] well, he’s a real ass. –
I went out by the Stubenthor at half past 5 and took my favourite walk to the theatre – what do I see? – What do I smell?––Don Primus with the pork cutlets! – Che gusto – I’m now eating to your health – it’s just gone 11; – perhaps you’re still asleep? – Sh! Sh! Sh! – I shan’t wake you! –
Saturday the 8th. – You should have seen me at supper yesterday! – I couldn’t find the old tableware, so I got out a white one decorated with snowdrops – and placed the double candlestick with wax candles in front of me! – According to the letter from […] the Italians are said to be finished here – also, Frau Duschek must have received at least one letter from you as he writes: The […] was very pleased with Mathies’ postscript, she said she likes the ASS –or ASS – just as he is. – Do encourage […] to write for […] as he’s been on at me to see to this. – Even as I write this, I expect you’re having a good swim. – The hairdresser came at six on the dot – Primus had already lit the fire at half past 5 and woke me at a ½14; to. – Why does it have to be raining? – I was so hoping that you’d have good weather! – Just keep nice and warm so that you don’t catch a cold; I hope the baths will keep you well throughout the winter – it was only this wish to see you well again that persuaded me to pack you off to Baden. – How I miss you – I predicted that this would happen. – If I hadn’t been so busy, I’d have set off at once to spend the week with you; – but out there it’s simply not convenient to work; and as far as possible I’d prefer to avoid getting into difficulties; there’s nothing more agreeable than to live in relative peace and quiet, and for that one has to work hard, which I like doing. –
Give […]12 a good box on the ears in my name, and also get […], whom I kiss 1000 times, to give him a couple – for heaven’s sake don’t let him go short! – The last thing I want is for him to reproach you, today or tomorrow, for not having treated him properly and looked after him – – give him too many blows rather than too few –
It would also be good if you could tweak his nose and knock out one of his eyes or cause him some other visible injury, so that the fellow can’t deny having received something from you; – adieu, my dear little wife! – The coach is about to leave. – I hope to receive something from you today, and in this sweet hope I kiss you 1000 times. I am ever your loving husband
W. A. Mozart
182. Mozart to his wife, 8 and 9 October 1791, Vienna
Saturday evening at ½ past 10.–
Dearest, most beloved little wife, –
It was with immense pleasure and feelings of joy that I found your letter on my return from the opera; – even though Saturday is post day and therefore a bad day, the opera was again performed to a full house, with the usual applause and encores; – it’s being given again tomorrow, but there’ll be no performance on Monday – as a result Süssmayr will have to bring Stoll1 in on Tuesday, when it will be given again for the first time– I say for the first time as it will probably then be given several times in succession; – I’ve just eaten a delicious piece of sturgeon that my faithful valet Don Primus brought
– and as I’m feeling fairly hungry today, I’ve sent him out for some more, if he can find it. – Meanwhile I’ll continue writing to you. – This morning I worked so hard that I didn’t notice what time it was until ½ past 1 – so I then ran as fast as I could to Hofer’s2 – simply so that I wouldn’t have to eat on my own – and found Mama3 there too. Straight after lunch I returned home and wrote till it was time to go to the opera. Leutgeb4 asked me to take him again, so I did. – Tomorrow I’ll be taking Mama; – Hofer has already given her the wordbook to read. – In Mama’s case it’s no doubt a question of her watching the opera rather than hearing it. – […] had a box today. – […] applauded everything, but he, the know-all, revealed himself to be such a thoroughgoing Bavarian that I couldn’t stay, otherwise I’d have ended up calling him an ass; – unfortunately I was there at the start of the 2nd act, in other words, during a solemn scene. – He laughed at everything; to begin with I was patient enough to draw his attention to some of the speeches, but – he just laughed at everything as before; – it got too much for me – I called him Papageno and left – but I don’t think the fool understood me. – So I went into another box where Flamm5 and his wife were sitting; I was happy to be there and stayed to the end. – But I went onstage during Papageno’s aria with the glockenspiel as I felt such an urge to play it myself today. – As a joke I played an arpeggio at a point where Schikaneder6 has a rest – he was startled – he looked into the wings and saw me – the 2nd time round I didn’t play anything – this time he stopped and refused to go on – I guessed what he was thinking and again played a chord – he then hit the glockenspiel and said shut up– everyone laughed then – it was because of this joke, I think, that many people discovered for the first time that he wasn’t playing the instrument himself. – Incidentally, you’ve no idea how delightful the music sounds from a box close to the orchestra – much better than from the gallery; – as soon as you’re back, you must try this for yourself. –
Sunday, 7 in the morning. – I slept very well and hope that you’ll have slept well, too. – I really enjoyed the half of a capon that friend Primus brought back with him. – At 10 I’m off to the service at the Piarists7 as Leutgeb has told me that I can then speak to the director. – I’ll also stay for lunch.
Primus told me yesterday that lots of people in Baden are ill, is that true? – Do take care and don’t trust the weather. – Well, Primus has just got back with the beastly news that the coach left before 7 this morning and there won’t be another one till this afternoon – as a result, I’ve been wasting my time writing all this at night and in the early morning as you won’t receive my letter till this evening, which annoys me greatly. – I’ll definitely be coming out to see you next Sunday – we’ll then go to the Casino together and return home together on Monday –
Lechleitner was again at the opera; – even though he’s no connoisseur, he’s still a genuine music lover, something that […] isn’t – he’s a real nonentity. – He’d much prefer a dinner. – Farewell, my love! – I kiss you millions of time and am ever your
Mozart
P. S.: Give Sophie8 a kiss for me. Perhaps you’ll pull Süssmayr’s nose for him and give his hair a good tug. A thousand good wishes to Stoll. Adieu – the hour has struck – – ‘lebt wohl, auf Wiedersehn!’9 –
N. B.: You presumably sent the 2 pairs of yellow winter breeches that go with the boots to the laundry as Joseph and I have looked for them in vain. – Adieu –
183. Mozart to his wife, 14 [and 15] October 1791, Vienna
Dearest, most beloved wife,
Yesterday, Thursday the 13th, Hofer drove out with me to see Carl,1 we had lunch out there, then drove home, at 6 I picked up Salieri and Mme Cavalieri in my carriage and drove them to my box – I then hurried off to collect Mama and Carl, whom I’d left in the meantime with Hofer. – You can’t imagine how kind they2 were – and how much they liked not only my music but also the libretto and everything else. – They both said it was a grand opera worthy of being performed at the grandest festivities and before the greatest monarch and that they’d certainly be seeing it more than once as they’d never seen a more beautiful or delightful spectacle. – He listened and watched with the utmost attentiveness, and from the overture to the final chorus there wasn’t a single number that didn’t call forth a bravo or a bello from him, and they could barely thank me enough for my kindness. They’d always intended to go to the opera yesterday. But they’d have needed to have been in their seats by 4 – as it was, they saw and heard everything in comfort. – After the show I drove them home and had supper with Carl at Hofer’s. – I then drove home with him and we both had a good night’s sleep. It was no small treat for Carl to be taken to the opera. – He’s looking splendid – in terms of his health he couldn’t be in a better place, but everything else there is unfortunately wretched! – No doubt they can turn out good peasants! – But enough of this, his serious studies – God have mercy on him! – don’t start till Monday and so I’ve asked to keep him till after lunch on Sunday; I said you’d like to see him – tomorrow, Sunday, I’ll drive out with him to see you – you can then keep him, or else I’ll drive him back to Heeger’s after lunch on Sunday; – think it over, a month can’t do him much harm, I think! – meanwhile we may be able to sort something out with the Piarists – I’m working on this. – I should add that although he’s no worse, nor is he in the least bit better. He’s still got the same bad habits, still enjoys making trouble and is almost less inclined to study than before but, as he himself admits, merely wanders around in the garden for 5 hours in the morning and 5 hours after lunch, in a word the children do nothing but eat, drink, sleep and go for walks, Leutgeb and Hofer have just arrived; – the former is staying to eat, I’ve just sent my faithful comrade Primus to fetch something to eat from the Bürgerspital; – I’m very pleased with the fellow he’s let me down only once, when I was forced to sleep at Hofer’s, which annoyed me a lot as they sleep far too long for my liking, I prefer to be at home as I’m used to my own routine. This one occasion put me in a really bad mood. Yesterday the whole day was taken up with my trip to Perchtoldsdorf, so that I couldn’t write to you – but it’s unforgivable of you not to have written for 2 days, I hope I’ll have news from you today. And tomorrow I’ll speak to you in person and kiss you with all my heart.
Farewell, ever your
Mozart
I kiss Sophie a thousand times, with N. N. you can do as you like. Adieu.
Mozart fetched Constanze backfrom Baden on 17 October and on 17 November his Kleine Freimaurer-Kantate K623 was performed at the Masonic lodge ‘Zur neugekrönten Hoffnung’. On 20 November he became ill and was attended by Dr Thomas Franz Closset and Dr Mathias von Sallaba (1764-97). Mozart’s condition deteriorated rapidly and he died at five minutes to one on the morning of 5 December. Possibly the most accurate account of Mozart’s last days, at least with respect to the medical attention he received and the suddenness of his death, probably from rheumatic inflammatory fever, comes in a letter of 7 April 18253 written thirty-four years after his death by his sister-in-law Sophie.
184. Sophie Haibel (née Weber) to Georg Nikolaus Nissen, 7 April 1825, Salzburg
… when Mozart fell ill, we1 both made him a night-shirt which he could put on from the front, for he could not turn over because of the swelling; and as we did not know how very ill he was, we also made him a quilted dressing-gown (for all of which his good wife, my dear sister, gave us the material) so that he would be well protected when he got up, and so we visited him diligently; he made it plain that he was greatly delighted by the dressing-gown. I went to visit him in the city every day, and once when I went in on a Saturday, M. said to me, ‘Now, dear Sophie, tell Mama that I am getting on very well, and that I will be coming out to her in the octave of her name day to give her my congratulations.’ Whose joy could be greater than mine when I brought my mother such glad tidings, after she could scarcely expect the news; so I hurried home to calm
her fears, after he had really seemed to me to be cheerful and well. The next day was a Sunday, then; I was still young and, I admit it, vain – and I liked dressing up, but I never liked walking from our suburb into the town in my best clothes, and I had not the money for going by carriage; so I said to our good mother, ‘Dear Mama, I shan’t go in to Mozart today – he was so well yesterday, so he’ll be better still today, and one day more or less will make no difference.’ She then said, ‘I’ll tell you what, make me a cup of coffee, and then I’ll tell you what you can do.’ She was rather concerned to keep me at home, for my sister knows how much she always wanted me to be with her. So I went into the kitchen. The fire had gone out; I had to light a taper and kindle the fire. But Mozart was still constantly on my mind. My coffee was ready, and my candle was still burning. I then saw how wasteful I had been to have burnt so much of my candle. The candle was still burning brightly, and I stared straight at my candle and thought, ‘I wonder how Mozart is?’, and as I was thinking this, and looking at my candle, the candle went out, it went out as if it had never been alight. Not even a spark remained on the big wick, there was no draught, to that I can swear; I shuddered, ran to our mother, and told her. She said, ‘All right, hurry up and take those clothes off and go in, but come and tell me straight away how he is. Now don’t be long.’ I hurried as fast as I could. My God! how frightened I was when my sister, half demented yet trying to control herself, came to meet me and said, ‘Thank God you’ve come, dear Sophie; he was so bad last night that I never thought he would survive this day. Stay with me today, for if he gets bad again today, he will die in the night. Go in to him for a little and see how he is.’ I tried to control myself and went up to his bed, when he called to me at once, ‘Ah, dear Sophie, it is good of you to come. You must stay here tonight, you must see me die.’ I tried to be strong and to dissuade him, but he answered to all my attempts, ‘I have the taste of death on my tongue already’, and ‘Who will look after my dearest Constanze if you don’t stay?’ – ‘Yes, dear Mozart, but I must first just go and tell our mother that you would like me with you tonight, or she will think some misfortune has happened.’ – ‘Yes, do that, but come back soon.’ – God, how awful I felt. My poor sister came after me and begged me for heavens’ sake to go to the priests at St Peter’s and ask the priests to come, as if on a chance visit. That I also did, though the priests hesitated a long time and I had great difficulty in persuading one of these inhuman priests to do it. – – Then I hurried to our mother, who was anxiously awaiting me; it was already dark. How frightened the poor dear was. I persuaded her to go and spend the night with her eldest daughter, Hofer, who is now dead, and so it was; and I ran back as fast as I could to my inconsolable sister. Süssmayr was there at M’s bedside; and the well-known Requiem lay on the coverlet, and Mozart was explaining to him how he thought he should finish it after his death. Then he commanded his wife to keep his death a secret until she had informed Albrechtsberger2 of it; for the post was his by right in the eyes of God and the world. There was a long search for Closset, the doctor, who was found in the theatre; but he had to wait until the play was over – then he came and prescribed cold compresses on his burning head, and these gave him such a shock that he did not regain consciousness before he passed away. The last thing he did was to try and mouth the sound of the timpani in his Requiem; I can still hear it now.
Mozart: A Life in Letters: A Life in Letters Page 60
