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The Letters of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart — Volume 01

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Title: The Letters of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart — Volume 01

Author: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Compiler: Ludwig Nohl

Translator: Lady Grace Wallace


        
Release date: March 1, 2004 [eBook #5307]
                Most recently updated: June 24, 2013

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LETTERS OF WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART — VOLUME 01 ***




Produced by John Mamoun, Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team









THE LETTERS OF WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART. (1769-1791.)

In Two Volumes. Vol. I.

By Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Translated, From The Collection Of Ludwig Nohl, By Lady Wallace

With A Portrait And Facsimile

New York and Philadelphia: 1866.



TABLE OF CONTENTS

   PREFACE
   THE LETTERS OF W.A. MOZART, VOLUME I

      FIRST PART: ITALY/VIENNA/MUNICH 1770-1776
      SECOND PART: MUNICH/AUGSBURG/MANNHEIM SEPT. 1777-MARCH 1778
      THIRD PART: PARIS MARCH 1778-JANUARY 1779
      FOURTH PART: MUNICH/IDOMENEO NOVEMBER 1780-JANUARY 1781

   CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. [LETTERS LISTED BY DATE]



PREFACE


A full and authentic edition of Mozart's Letters ought to require no
special apology; for, though their essential substance has already been
made known by quotations from biographies by Nissen, Jahn, and myself,
taken from the originals, still in these three works the letters are
necessarily not only very imperfectly given, but in some parts so
fragmentary, that the peculiar charm of this correspondence--namely, the
familiar and confidential mood in which it was written at the time--is
entirely destroyed. It was only possible to restore, and to enable
others to enjoy this charm--a charm so novel, even to those already
conversant with Mozart's life, that the most familiar incidents acquire
fresh zest from it--by an ungarbled edition of these letters. This is
what I now offer, feeling convinced that it will be welcome not only to
the mass of Mozart's admirers, but also to professional musicians; for
in them alone is strikingly set forth how Mozart lived and labored,
enjoyed and suffered, and this with a degree of vivid and graphic
reality which no biography, however complete, could ever succeed in
giving. Who does not know the varied riches of Mozart's life? All that
agitated the minds of men in that day--nay, all that now moves, and ever
will move, the heart of man--vibrated with fresh pulsation, and under
the most manifold forms, in his sensitive soul, and mirrored itself in
a series of letters, which indeed rather resemble a journal than a
correspondence.

This artist, Nature had gifted in all respects with the most clear and
vigorous intellect that ever man possessed. Even in a language which
he had not so fully mastered as to acquire the facility of giving
expression to his ideas, he contrived to relate to others all that he
saw and heard, and felt and thought, with surprising clearness and the
most charming sprightliness, combined with talent and good feeling.
Above all, in his letters to his father when travelling, we meet with
the most minute delineations of countries and people, of the progress of
the fine arts, especially in the theatres and in music; we also see
the impulses of his own heart and a hundred other things which, in
fascination, and universal as well as artistic interest, have scarcely
a parallel in our literature. The style may fail to a certain degree in
polish, that is, in definite purpose in expressing what he wished to say
in an attractive or congenial form,--an art, however, which Mozart so
thoroughly understood in his music. His mode of writing, especially in
the later letters from Vienna, is often very slovenly, evidencing how
averse the Maestro was to the task. Still these letters are manifestly
the unconstrained, natural, and simple outpourings of his heart,
delightfully recalling to our minds all the sweetness and pathos, the
spirit and grace, which have a thousand times enchanted us in the music
of Mozart. The accounts of his visit to Paris may, indeed, lay claim to
a certain aesthetic value, for they are written throughout with
visible zest in his own descriptions, and also with wit, and charm, and
characteristic energy. As these combined merits can only become apparent
by an ungarbled series of the letters, I have resolved, after many
long years of zealous research in collecting them, to undertake the
work,--that is, to publish the letters entire that have come to my
knowledge.

It now only remains for me to give some words of explanation as to the
method I have pursued in editing them.

In the first place, this edition, (being transcribed closely from the
originals,) if compared with the letters already published, will prove
that the latter are open to many corrections, both in trivial and more
important respects. I have forborne, however, attracting attention to
the deviations from the original text, either in Nissen or Jahn. I have
no wish to be punctilious about trifles, where, as in the case of Jahn,
the principal points are correct. Further, by this faithful production
of the letters, (nothing being omitted but the constant repetition of
forms of greeting and subscription,) we find many an additional feature
in the Maestro's life, and chiefly various facts with regard to the
creation and publication of his works, which may serve to complete
and to amend various statements in Dr. Ludwig Ritter von Kochel's
"Chronological Thematic Catalogue of the Musical Compositions of W. A.
Mozart," (Leipzig, Breitkopf and Hartel). This will be effected not only
by the hitherto unpublished letters, though comparatively few in number,
but also by passages being given in full, which have been hitherto
suppressed as of no consequence. I have referred to Nissen and Jahn only
when, in spite of all my inquiries, I could not discover the proprietor
of the original, or procure a correct copy.

I must also remark that all letters without a special address are
written to his father. I have only adhered to Mozart's defective
orthography in his few letters of early date, and in the rest adopted
the more modern fashion. I did so for this simple reason, that these
defects form a charm in his juvenile letters, from being in accordance
with their boyish contents, while, with regard to the others, they
only tend to distract the attention from the substance of the letters,
instead of imparting additional interest to them. Biographers can,
and ought always to render faithfully the original writing, because
quotations alternate with the text of the biographer; but in a regular
and uninterrupted series of letters this attraction must be very
sparingly used, or it will have a pernicious effect.

The explanatory remarks, and also the supplementary Lexicon, in which
I have availed myself of Jahn's catalogue, will make the letters more
intelligible to the world at large. The Index, too, has been most
carefully prepared to facilitate references.

Lastly, I return my best thanks to the keeper of the Archives of the
Mozarteum in Salzburg, to Herr Jellinck, and to all the librarians and
collectors of autographs who have assisted me in my task, either by
furnishing me with copies of their Mozart letters, or by letting me know
where I could procure them. I would also earnestly request all who may
possess any Mozart letters to send me an exact transcript of them in
the interest of Art; for those here given allude to many still unknown,
which are no doubt scattered about here and there, waiting to be brought
to light.

With respect to myself, the best reward I aspire to in return for the
many sacrifices this collection has cost me, is, that my readers may
do justice to the purpose which chiefly guided me throughout this
publication,--my desire being not merely to benefit science, and to give
a graphic description of the amiability and purity of heart which so
distinguished this attractive man, (for such was my aim in my "Life of
Mozart,") but above all to draw attention afresh to the unremitting zeal
with which Mozart did homage to every advance in Art, striving to make
music more and more the interpreter of man's innermost being. I also
wished to show how much his course was impeded by the sluggishness and
stupidity of the multitude, though partly sustained by the sympathy
of kindred souls, till the glorious victory was won over routine and
imbecility. Amidst all the fatiguing process of copying and collating
letters already so familiar to me, these considerations moved me more
vividly than ever; and no work on the Maestro can ever bring them with
such force before the intelligent reader as this connected succession of
letters, containing his own details of his unwearied artistic struggles
and productions. May these letters, then, kindle fresh zeal in
our artists of the present day, both in youthful genius and in
laurel-crowned Maestri!--especially may they have the happiest influence
on those who devote themselves to that phase of Art in which Mozart
attained the highest renown!--may they impart that energetic courage
which is derived from the experience that incessant efforts for
the progress of Art and its appliances enlarge the limits of human
intellect, and can alone insure an immortal crown!

LUDWIG NOHL.

MUNICH, October 1, 1864.




FIRST PART--ITALY, VIENNA, MUNICH.--1770 TO 1776.


Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born in Salzburg on the 17th January, 1756.
His father, Leopold Mozart, belonged to a respectable tradesman's family
in the free city of Augsburg. Conscious of being gifted with no small
portion of intellectual endowments, he followed the impulse that led
him to aim at a higher position in life, and went to the then celebrated
University of Salzburg in order to study jurisprudence. As he did not,
however, at once succeed in procuring employment in this profession,
he was forced, from his straitened means, to enter the service of
Canon Count Thun as valet. Subsequently, however, his talents, and that
thorough knowledge of music by which he had already (according to the
custom of many students) gained some part of his livelihood, obtained
for him a better position. In the year 1743 he was received into the
band (Kapelle) of the Salzburg cathedral by Archbishop Sigismund; and
as his capabilities and fame as a violinist increased, the same Prince
shortly afterwards promoted him to the situation of Hof-Componist (Court
Composer) and leader of the orchestra, and in 1762 he was appointed
Hof-Kapellmeister (conductor of the Court music).

In 1747 Leopold Mozart married Anna Maria Pertlin, a foster-child of the
Convent of St. Gilgen. The fruits of this marriage were seven children,
two of whom alone survived,--Maria Anna, (the fourth), called Nannerl,
born in 1751; and the youngest, Wolfgang Amadeus Johannes Chrysostomus.
The daughter at a very early age displayed a most remarkable talent
for music, and when her father began to give her instructions in it, an
inborn and passionate love of this art was soon evident in her little
brother of three years old, who at once gave tokens of a degree of
genius far surpassing all experience, and really bordering on the
marvellous. In his fourth year he could play all sorts of little pieces
on the piano. He only required half an hour to learn a minuet, and one
hour for a longer movement; and in his fifth year he actually composed
some pretty short pieces, several of which are still extant.

[Footnote: The Grand Duchess Helene Paulowna, a few weeks ago, made a
present to the Mozarteum of the music-book from which Mozart learned
music, and in which he wrote down his first compositions.]

The wonderful acquirements of both these children, to which Wolfgang
soon added skilful playing on the violin and organ, induced their father
to travel with them. In January, 1702, when the boy was just six
years old, they went first to Munich, and in the autumn to Vienna, the
children everywhere on their journey exciting the greatest sensation,
and being handsomely remunerated. Leopold Mozart, therefore, soon
afterwards resolved to undertake a longer journey, accompanied by his
whole family. This lasted more than three years, extending from the
smaller towns in West Germany to Paris and London, while they visited,
on their way back, Holland, France, and Switzerland. The careful musical
instruction which the father perseveringly bestowed on his son, went
hand in hand with the most admirable education, and the boy was soon as
universally beloved for his amiable disposition and natural simplicity
and candor, as admired for his rare gifts and acquirements.

After nearly a year passed at home in unremitting musical instruction,
and practice of various instruments as well as composition, the father
once more set off with all his family to Vienna,--on this occasion with
a view to Wolfgang paving the way to Italy by the composition of an
opera, (Italy, at that time, being the Eldorado of music.) He succeeded
in procuring the scrittura of an opera buffa, "La Finta semplice;"
but, when finished, although the Emperor himself had intrusted the
composition to the boy, the cabals of envious singers effectually
prevented its being performed. But a German operetta which the lad of
twelve also wrote at that time, "Bastien und Bastienne," was given in
private, at the summer residence of the Mesmer family, in the suburb
called Landstrasse. The father, too, had some compensation by the
Emperor commissioning his son to compose a solemn mass for the
consecration of the new Waisenhaus church, which Wolfgang himself
directed with the conductor's baton, in presence of the Imperial Family,
on the 7th December, 1768.

Immediately on their return home, the young virtuoso was appointed
archiepiscopal Concertmeister. He passed almost the whole of the year
1769 in Salzburg, chiefly engaged in the composition of masses. We also
see him at that time eagerly occupied in improving his knowledge of
Latin, although two years previously he had composed a comedy in that
language,--"Apollo et Hyacinthus." From this study proceeds the first
letter which is still extant from his hand:--



1.

Salzburg, 1769.

MY DEAR YOUNG LADY,--

I beg you will pardon the liberty I take in plaguing you with these few
lines, but as you said yesterday that there was nothing you could not
understand in Latin, and I might write what I chose in that language, I
could not resist the bold impulse to write you a few Latin lines. When
you have deciphered these, be so good as to send me the answer by one of
Hagenauer's servants, for my messenger cannot wait; remember, you must
answer this by a letter.

[Footnote: By a messenger of the Hagenauer family, in whose house,
opposite the inn of "Den drei Allurten," Mozart was born, and with whom
his family were on the most intimate terms.]

"Cuperem scire, de qua causa, a quam plurimis adolescentibus ottium
usque adeo oestimetur, ut ipsi se nec verbis, nec verberibus ad hoc
sinant abduci."

[Footnote: "I should like to know the reason why indolence is so highly
prized by very many young men, that neither by words nor blows will they
suffer themselves to be roused from it."]

WOLFGANG MOZART.



The father's plan to go to Italy, there to lay the foundation of a
European reputation for his son, was realized in the beginning of
December, 1769, and during the journey, the boy, who was at that time
just entering his fifteenth year, subjoined to his father's reports
scraps of his own writing, in which, in true boyish fashion, he had
recourse to all kinds of languages and witticisms, but always exhibiting
in his opinions on music the closest observation, the gravest thought,
and the most acute judgment.



2.

Verona, Jan. 1770.

MY VERY DEAREST SISTER,--

I have at last got a letter a span long after hoping so much for an
answer that I lost patience; and I had good cause to do so before
receiving yours at last. The German blockhead having said his say, now
the Italian one begins. Lei e piu franca nella lingua italiana di quel
che mi ho immaginato. Lei mi dica la cagione perche lei non fu nella
commedia che hanno giocata i Cavalieri. Adesso sentiamo sempre una opera
titolata Il Ruggiero. Oronte, il padre di Bradamante, e un principe (il
Signor Afferi) bravo cantante, un baritono, [Footnote: "You are more
versed in the Italian language than I believed. Tell me why you were not
one of the actors in the comedy performed by the Cavaliers. We are now
hearing an opera called 'Il Ruggiero.' Oronte, the father of Bradamante,
is a Prince (acted by Afferi, a good singer, a baritone)."] but very
affected when he speaks out a falsetto, but not quite so much so as
Tibaldi in Vienna. Bradamante innamorata di Ruggiero (ma [Footnote:
"Bradamante is enamored of Ruggiero, but"]--she is to marry Leone, but
will not) fa una povera Baronessa, che ha avuto una gran disgrazia, ma
non so la quale; recita [Footnote: "Pretends to be a poor Baroness who
has met with some great misfortune, but what it is I don't know, she
performs"] under an assumed name, but the name I forget; ha una voce
passabile, e la statura non sarebbe male, ma distuona come il diavolo.
Ruggiero, un ricco principe innamorato di Bradamante, e un musico; canta
un poco Manzuolisch [Footnote: Manzuoli was a celebrated soprano, from
whom Mozart had lessons in singing when in London.] ed ha una bellissima
voce forte ed e gia vecchio; ha 55 anni, ed ha una [Footnote: "She has
a tolerable voice, and her appearance is in her favor, but she sings out
of tune like a devil Ruggiero, a rich Prince enamored of Bradamante, is
a musico, and sings rather in Manzuoli's style, and has a fine powerful
voice, though quite old; he is fifty-five, and has a"] flexible voice.
Leone is to marry Bradamante--richississimo e, [Footnote: "Immensely
rich."] but whether he is rich off the stage I can't say. La moglie di
Afferi, che ha una bellissima voce, ma e tanto susurro nel teatro che
non si sente niente. Irene fa una sorella di Lolli, del gran violinista
che habbiamo sentito a Vienna, a una [Footnote: "Afferi's wife has a
most beautiful voice, but sings so softly on the stage that you really
hear nothing at all. A sister of Lolli, the great violinist whom we
heard at Vienna, acts Irene; she has a"] very harsh voce, e canta sempre
[Footnote: "Voice, and always sings"] a quaver too tardi o troppo a
buon' ora. Granno fa un signore, che non so come si chiame; e la prima
volta che lui recita. [Footnote: "Slow or too fast. Ganno is acted by
a gentleman whose name I never heard. It is his first appearance on the
stage."] There is a ballet between each act. We have a good dancer here
called Roessler. He is a German, and dances right well. The very last
time we were at the opera (but not, I hope, the very last time we ever
shall be there) we got M. Roessler to come up to our palco, (for M.
Carlotti gives us his box, of which we have the key,) and conversed with
him. Apropos, every one is now in maschera, and one great convenience
is, that if you fasten your mask on your hat you have the privilege
of not taking off your hat when any one speaks to you; and you never
address them by name, but always as "Servitore umilissimo, Signora
Maschera." Cospetto di Bacco! that is fun! The most strange of all is
that we go to bed at half-past seven! Se lei indovinasse questo, io diro
certamente che lei sia la madre di tutti gli indovini. [Footnote: "If
you guess this, I shall say that you are the mother of all guessers."]
Kiss mamma's hand for me, and to yourself I send a thousand kisses, and
assure you that I shall always be your affectionate brother.

Portez-vous bien, et aimez-moi toujours.



3.

Milan, Jan. 26, 1770.

I REJOICE in my heart that you were so well amused at the sledging
party you write to me about, and I wish you a thousand opportunities of
pleasure, so that you may pass your life merrily. But one thing vexes
me, which is, that you allowed Herr von Molk [an admirer of this pretty
young girl of eighteen] to sigh and sentimentalize, and that you did not
go with him in his sledge, that he might have upset you. What a lot of
pocket-handkerchiefs he must have used that day to dry the tears he shed
for you! He no doubt, too, swallowed at least three ounces of cream of
tartar to drive away the horrid evil humors in his body. I know nothing
new except that Herr Gellert, the Leipzig poet, [Footnote: Old Mozart
prized Gellert's poems so highly, that on one occasion he wrote to him
expressing his admiration.] is dead, and has written no more poetry
since his death. Just before beginning this letter I composed an air
from the "Demetrio" of Metastasio, which begins thus, "Misero tu non
sei."

The opera at Mantua was very good. They gave "Demetrio." The prima donna
sings well, but is inanimate, and if you did not see her acting, but
only singing, you might suppose she was not singing at all, for she
can't open her mouth, and whines out everything; but this is nothing new
to us. The seconda donna looks like a grenadier, and has a very powerful
voice; she really does not sing badly, considering that this is her
first appearance. Il primo uomo, il musico, sings beautifully, but his
voice is uneven; his name is Caselli. Il secondo uomo is quite old, and
does not at all please me. The tenor's name is Ottini; he does not sing
unpleasingly, but with effort, like all Italian tenors. We know him
very well. The name of the second I don't know; he is still young, but
nothing at all remarkable. Primo ballerino good; prima ballerina good,
and people say pretty, but I have not seen her near. There is a grotesco
who jumps cleverly, but cannot write as I do--just as pigs grunt.
The orchestra is tolerable. In Cremona, the orchestra is good, and
Spagnoletta is the name of the first violinist there. Prima donna very
passable--rather ancient, I fancy, and as ugly as sin. She does not sing
as well as she acts, and is the wife of a violin-player at the opera.
Her name is Masci. The opera was the "Clemenza di Tito." Seconda donna
not ugly on the stage, young, but nothing superior. Primo uomo, un
musico, Cicognani, a fine voice, and a beautiful cantabile. The other
two musici young and passable. The tenor's name is non lo so [I don't
know what]. He has a pleasing exterior, and resembles Le Roi at Vienna.
Ballerino primo good, but an ugly dog. There was a ballerina who danced
far from badly, and, what is a capo d'opera, she is anything but plain,
either on the stage or off it. The rest were the usual average. I cannot
write much about the Milan opera, for we did not go there, but we heard
that it was not successful. Primo uomo, Aprile, who sings well, and
has a fine even voice; we heard him at a grand church festival. Madame
Piccinelli, from Paris, who sang at one of our concerts, acts at the
opera. Herr Pick, who danced at Vienna, is now dancing here. The opera
is "Didone abbandonata," but it is not to be given much longer. Signor
Piccini, who is writing the next opera, is here. I am told that the
title is to be "Cesare in Egitto."

WOLFGANG DE MOZART,

Noble of Hohenthal and attached to the Exchequer.



4.

Milan, Feb. 10, 1770.

SPEAK of the wolf, and you see his ears! I am quite well, and
impatiently expecting an answer from you. I kiss mamma's hand, and
send you a little note and a little kiss; and remain, as before,
your----What? Your aforesaid merry-andrew brother, Wolfgang in Germany,
Amadeo in Italy.

DE MORZANTINI.



5.

Milan, Feb. 17, 1770.

Now I am in for it! My Mariandel! I am so glad that you were so
tremendously merry. Say to nurse Urserl that I still think I sent back
all her songs, but if, engrossed by high and mighty thoughts of Italy,
I carried one off with me, I shall not fail, if I find it, to enclose it
in one of my letters. Addio, my children, farewell! I kiss mamma's hands
a thousand times, and send you a thousand kisses and salutes on your
queer monkey face. Per fare il fine, I am yours, &c.



6.

Milan, Carnival, Erchtag.

MANY kisses to mamma and to you. I am fairly crazed with so much
business, [Footnote: Concerts and compositions of every kind occupied
Mozart. The principal result of his stay in Milan was, that the young
maestro got the scrittura of an opera for the ensuing season. As the
libretto was to be sent to them, they could first make a journey through
Italy with easy minds. The opera was "Mitridate, Re di Ponto."] so I
can't possibly write any more.



7.

Milan, March 3, 1770.

CARA SORELLA MIA,--

I am heartily glad that you have had so much amusement. Perhaps you may
think that I have not been as merry as you; but, indeed, I cannot sum
up all we have done. I think we have been at least six or seven times at
the opera and the feste di ballo, which, as in Vienna, begin after the
opera, but with this difference, that at Vienna the dancing is more
orderly. We also saw the facchinata and chiccherata. The first is
a masquerade, an amusing sight, because the men go as facchini, or
porters; there was also a barca filled with people, and a great number
on foot besides; and five or six sets of trumpets and kettledrums,
besides several bands of violins and other instruments. The chiccherata
is also a masquerade. What the people of Milan call chicchere, we call
petits maitres, or fops. They were all on horseback, which was a pretty
sight. I am as happy now to hear that Herr von Aman [Footnote: The
father had written in a previous letter, "Herr von Aman's accident,
of which you wrote to us, not only distressed us very much, but cost
Wolfgang many tears. You know how sensitive he is"] is better, as I was
grieved when you mentioned that he had met with an accident. What
kind of mask did Madame Rosa wear, and Herr von Molk, and Herr von
Schiedenhofen? Pray write this to me, if you know it; your doing so will
oblige me very much. Kiss mamma's hands for me a thousand million times,
and a thousand to yourself from "Catch him who can!" Why, here he is!



8.

Bologna, March 24, 1770.

Oh, you busy creature!

Having been so long idle, I thought it would do me no harm to set to
work again for a short time. On the post-days, when the German letters
come, all that I eat and drink tastes better than usual. I beg you will
let me know who are to sing in the oratorio, and also its title. Let me
hear how you like the Haydn minuets, and whether they are better than
the first. From my heart I rejoice to hear that Herr von Aman is now
quite recovered; pray say to him that he must take great care of himself
and beware of any unusual exertion. Be sure you tell him this. I intend
shortly to send you a minuet that Herr Pick danced on the stage, and
which every one in Milan was dancing at the feste di ballo, only
that you may see by it how slowly people dance. The minuet itself is
beautiful. Of course it comes from Vienna, so no doubt it is either
Teller's or Starzer's. It has a great many notes. Why? Because it is a
theatrical minuet, which is in slow time. The Milan and Italian minuets,
however, have a vast number of notes, and are slow and with a quantity
of bars; for instance, the first part has sixteen, the second twenty,
and even twenty-four.

We made the acquaintance of a singer in Parma, and also heard her to
great advantage in her own house--I mean the far-famed Bastardella. She
has, first, a fine voice; second, a flexible organ; third, an incredibly
high compass. She sang the following notes and passages in my presence.

[Here, Mozart illustrates with about 20 measures of music]



9.

Rome, April 14, 1770.

I AM thankful to say that my stupid pen and I are all right, so we send
a thousand kisses to you both. I wish that my sister were in Rome,
for this city would assuredly delight her, because St. Peter's is
symmetrical, and many other things in Rome are also symmetrical. Papa
has just told me that the loveliest flowers are being carried past at
this moment. That I am no wiseacre is pretty well known.

Oh! I have one annoyance--there is only a single bed in our lodgings,
so mamma may easily imagine that I get no rest beside papa. I rejoice at
the thoughts of a new lodging. I have just finished sketching St. Peter
with his keys, St. Paul with his sword, and St. Luke with--my sister,
&c., &c. I had the honor of kissing St. Peter's foot at San Pietro, and
as I have the misfortune to be so short, your good old

WOLFGANG MOZART

was lifted up!



10.

Rome, April 21, 1770.

CARA SORELLA MIA,--

Pray try to find the "Art of Ciphering" which you copied out, but I have
lost it, and know nothing about it. So pray do write it out again for
me, with some other copies of sums, and send them to me here.

Manzuoli has entered into a contract with the Milanese to sing in my
opera [see Nos. 2-6]. For this reason he sang four or five arias to me
in Florence, and also some of my own, which I was obliged to compose in
Milan (none of my theatrical things having been heard there) to prove
that I was capable of writing an opera. Manzuoli asks 1000 ducats. It is
not yet quite certain whether Gabrielli will come. Some say Madame de'
Amicis will sing in it; we shall see her in Naples. I wish that she and
Manzuoli could act together; we should then be sure of two good friends.
The libretto is not yet chosen. I recommended one of Metastasio's to Don
Ferdinando [Count Firmiani's steward, in Milan] and to Herr von Troyer.
I am at this moment at work on the aria "Se ardore e speranza."



11.

Rome, April 25, 1770.

CARA SORELLA MIA,--

Io vi accerto che io aspetto con una incredibile premura tutte le
giornate di posta qualche lettere di Salisburgo. Jeri fummo a S. Lorenzo
e sentimmo il Vespero, e oggi matina la messa cantata, e la sera poi il
secondo vespero, perche era la festa della Madonna del Buonconsiglio.
Questi giorni fummi nel Campidoglio e viddemmo varie belle cose. Se io
volessi scrivere tutto quel che viddi, non bastarebbe questo foglietto.
In due Accademie suonai, e domani suonero anche in una.--Subito dopo
pranzo giuochiamo a Potsch [Boccia]. Questo e un giuoco che imparai qui,
quando verro a casa, ve l'imparero. Finita questa lettera finiro una
sinfonia mia, che comminciai. L'aria e finita, una sinfonia e dal
copista (il quale e il mio padre) perche noi non la vogliamo dar via per
copiarla; altrimente ella sarebbe rubata.

WOLFGANGO in Germania. AMADEO MOZART in Italia.

Roma caput mundi il 25 Aprile anno 1770    nell' anno venture 1771.

[Footnote:

"DEAREST SISTER,--

"I assure you that I always expect with intense eagerness my letters
from Salzburg on post-days. Yesterday we were at S. Lorenzo and heard
vespers, and to-day at the chanted mass, and in the evening at the
second vespers, because it was the Feast of the Madonna del
Buonconsiglio. A few days ago we were at the Campidoglio, where we saw a
great many fine things. If I tried to write you an account of all I saw,
this sheet would not suffice. I played at two concerts, and to-morrow I
am to play at another. After dinner we played at Potsch [Boccia]. This
is a game I have learnt, and when I come home, I will teach it to you.
When I have finished this letter, I am going to complete a symphony that
I have begun. The aria is finished. The copyist (who is my father) has
the symphony, because we do not choose it to be copied by any one else,
or it might be stolen.

"WOLFGANGO in Germany.

"AMADEO MOZART in Italy.

"Rome, mistress of the world: April 25, 1770."]



12.

Naples, May 19, 1770.

CARA SORELLA MIA,--

Vi prego di scrivermi presto e tutti i giorni di posta. Io vi ringrazio
di avermi mandata questi "Art of Ciphering," [FOOTNOTE: "I beg you will
write to me soon, indeed every post-day. I thank you for having sent me
the 'Art of Ciphering.'"] e vi prego, se mai volete avere mal di testa,
di mandarmi ancora un poco di questi "books." [FOOTNOTE: "And I beg if
you ever want to have a headache, that you will send me some more."]
Perdonate mi che scrivo si malamente, ma la razione e perche anche
io ebbi un poco mal di testa. [FOOTNOTE: "of the same kind. Excuse my
writing so badly, but the reason is that I have a bit of a headache
myself."]

Haydn's twelfth minuet, which you sent me, pleases me very much; you
have composed an inimitable bass for it, and without the slightest
fault. I do beg that you will often exercise yourself in such things.
Mamma must not forget to see that the guns are both polished up. Tell me
how Master Canary is? Does he still sing? and still whistle? Do you know
why I am thinking about the canary? Because we have one in our ante-room
that chirps out a G sharp just like ours. [Footnote: Mozart was
extremely fond of animals, and later in life had always birds in his
room.] A propos, Herr Johannes [Hagenauer], no doubt, received the
letter of congratulation which we intended to write to him? But if he
has not got it, I will tell him myself, when we meet in Salzburg, what
ought to have been in it. Yesterday we wore our new clothes; we were as
handsome as angels. My kind regards to Nandl; she must not fail to pray
diligently for me.

Jomelli's opera is to be given on the 30th. We saw the king and queen at
mass in the court chapel at Portici, and we also saw Vesuvius. Naples is
beautiful, but as crowded with people as Vienna or Paris. As for London
and Naples, I think that in point of insolence on the part of the people
Naples almost surpasses London; because here the lazzaroni have their
regular head or leader, who receives twenty-five ducati d'argento
monthly from the king for keeping the lazzaroni in order.

Madame de' Amicis sings in the opera--we were there. Caffaro is to
compose the second opera, Ciccio di Majo the third, but who is to
compose the fourth is not yet known. Be sure you go regularly to
Mirabell, to hear the Litanies, and listen to the "Regina Coeli" or the
"Salve Regina," and sleep sound, and take care to have no evil dreams.
My most transcendent regards to Herr von Schiedenhofen--tralaliera!
tralaliera! Tell him to learn the repetition minuet on the piano, to be
sure to DO so, and DO not let him forget it. He must DO this in order
to DO me the favor to let me accompany him some day or other. DO give my
best compliments to all my friends, and DO continue to live happily, and
DO not die, but DO live on, that you may be able to DO another letter
for me, and I DO one for you, and thus we shall go on DOING till we can
DO something worth DOING; but I am one of those who will go on DOING
till all DOINGS are at an end. In the mean time I DO subscribe myself

Your W. M.



13.

Naples, May 29, 1770.

Jeri l'altro fummo nella prova dell' opera del Sign. Jomelli, la quale
e una opera che e ben scritta e che me piace veramente. Il Sign. Jomelli
ci ha parlato ed era molto civile. E fummo anche in una chiesa a sentir
una Musica la quale fu del Sign. Ciccio di Majo, ed era una bellissima
Musica. Anche lui ci parlci ed era molto compito. La Signora de'
Amicis canto a meraviglia. Stiamo Dio grazia assai bene di salute,
particolarmente io, quando viene una lettera di Salisburgo. Vi prego
di scrivermi tutti giorni di posta, e se anche non avete niente da
scrivermi, solamente vorrei averlo per aver qualche lettera tutti giorni
di posta. Egli non sarebbe mal fatto, se voi mi scriveste qualche volta
una letterina italiana.

[FOOTNOTE: "The other day we attended the rehearsal of Signor Jomelli's
opera, which is well written and pleases me exceedingly. Signor Jomelli
spoke to us and was very civil. We also went to a church to hear a mass
by Signor Ciccio di Majo, and it was most beautiful music. Signora
de' Amicus sang incomparably. We are, thank God, very well, and I feel
particularly so when a letter from Salzburg arrives. I beg you will
write to me every post-day, even if you have nothing to write about, for
I should like to have a letter by every post. It would not be a bad idea
to write me a little letter in Italian."]



14.

Naples, June 5, 1770.

Vesuvius is smoking fiercely! Thunder and lightning and blazes! Haid
homa gfresa beim Herr Doll. Das is a deutscha Compositor, und a browa
Mo. [Footnote: "Today we dined with Herr Doll, he is a good composer
and a worthy man" [Vienna Patois]] Now I begin to describe my course
of life.--Alle 9 ore, qualche volta anche alle dieci mi svelgio, e poi
andiamo fuor di casa, e poi pranziamo da un trattore, e dopo pranzo
scriviamo, e poi sortiamo, e indi ceniamo, ma che cosa? Al giorno di
grasso, un mezzo pollo ovvero un piccolo boccone d'arrosto; al giorno di
magro un piccolo pesce; e di poi andiamo a dormire. Est-ce que vous
avez compris?--Redma dafir Soisburgarisch, don as is gschaida. Wir sand
Gottlob gesund da Voda und i. [Footnote: "I rise generally every morning
at 9 o'clock, but sometimes not till 10, when we go out. We dine at
a restaurateur's, after dinner I write, and then we go out again, and
afterwards sup, but on what? on jours gras, half a fowl, or a small
slice of roast meat, on jours maigres a little fish, and then we go to
sleep. Do you understand? Let us talk Salzburgisch, for that is more
sensible. Thank God, my father and I are well" [Patois]] I hope you
and mamma are so also. Naples and Rome are two drowsy cities. A scheni
Schrift! net wor? [Footnote: "Fine writing, is it not?" [Patois.]] Write
to me, and do not be so lazy. Altrimente avrete qualche bastonate di
me. Quel plaisir! Je te casserai la tete. [Footnote: "Otherwise I
will cudgel you soundly. What a pleasure--to break your head!"] I am
delighted with the thoughts of the portraits [of his mother and sister,
who had promised to have their likenesses taken], und i bi korios wias
da gleich sieht; wons ma gfoin, so los i mi und den Vodan a so macho.
Maidli, lass Da saga, wo list dan gwesa he? [Footnote: "And I am anxious
to see what they are like, and then I will have my father and myself
also taken. Fair maiden, say, where have you been, eh?" [Patois.]] The
opera here is Jomelli's; it is fine, but too grave and old-fashioned for
this stage. Madame de' Amicis sings incomparably, and so does Aprile,
who used to sing at Milan. The dancing is miserably pretentious. The
theatre beautiful. The King has been brought up in the rough Neapolitan
fashion, and at the opera always stands on a stool, so that he may look
a little taller than the Queen, who is beautiful and so gracious, for
she bowed to me in the most condescending manner no less than six times
on the Molo.



15.

Naples, June 16, 1770.

I AM well and lively and happy as ever, and as glad to travel. I made
an excursion on the Mediterranean. I kiss mamma's hand and Nannerl's a
thousand times, and am your son, Steffl, and your brother, Hansl.



16.

Rome, July 7, 1770.

CARA SORELLA MIA,--

I am really surprised that you can compose so charmingly. In a word, the
song is beautiful. Often try something similar. Send me soon the
other six minuets of Haydn. Mademoiselle, j'ai l'honneur d'etre votre
tres-humble serviteur et frere,

CHEVALIER DE MOZART.

[He had received from the Pope the cross of the Order of the Golden
Spur.]



17.

Bologna, July 21, 1770.

I WISH mamma joy of her name-day, and hope that she may live for many
hundred years to come and retain good health, which I always ask of
God, and pray to Him for you both every day. I cannot do honor to the
occasion except with some Loretto bells, and wax tapers, and caps, and
gauze when I return. In the mean time, good-bye, mamma. I kiss your hand
a thousand times, and remain, till death, your attached son.



18.

Io vi auguro d'Iddio, vi dia sempre salute, e vi lasci vivere ancora
cent' anni e vi faccia morire quando avrete mille anni. Spero che voi
impararete meglio conoscermi ni avvenire e che poi ne giudicherete come
ch' egli vi piace. Il tempo non mi permette di scriver motto. La penna
non vale un corno, ne pure quello che la dirigge. Il titolo dell' opera
che ho da comporre a Milano, non si sa ancora.

[Footnote: "My prayer to God is, that He may grant you health, and allow
you to live to be a hundred, and not to die till you are a thousand
years old. I hope that you will learn to know me better in future, and
that you will then judge of me as you please. Time does not permit me
to write much. My pen is not worth a pin, nor the hand that guides it. I
don't yet know the title of the opera that I am to compose at Milan."]

My landlady at Rome made me a present of the "Thousand and One Nights"
in Italian; it is most amusing to read.



19.

Bologna, August 4, 1770.

I GRIEVE from my heart to hear that Jungfrau Marthe is still so ill, and
I pray every day that she may recover. Tell her from me that she must
beware of much fatigue and eat only what is strongly salted [she
was consumptive]. A propos, did you give my letter to Robinsiegerl?
[Sigismund Robinig, a friend of his]. You did not mention it when you
wrote. I beg that when you see him you will tell him he is not quite
to forget me. I can't possibly write better, for my pen is only fit to
write music and not a letter. My violin has been newly strung, and I
play every day. I only mention this because mamma wished to know whether
I still played the violin. I have had the honor to go at least six times
by myself into the churches to attend their splendid ceremonies. In the
mean time I have composed four Italian symphonies [overtures], besides
five or six arias, and also a motett.

Does Herr Deibl often come to see you? Does he still honor you by his
amusing conversation? And the noble Herr Carl von Vogt, does he still
deign to listen to your tiresome voices? Herr von Schiedenhofen
must assist you often in writing minuets, otherwise he shall have no
sugar-plums.

If time permitted, it would be my duty to trouble Herr von Molk and Herr
von Schiedenhofen with a few lines; but as that most indispensable of
all things is wanting, I hope they will forgive my neglect, and consider
me henceforth absolved from this honor. I have begun various cassations
[a kind of divertimento], so I have thus responded to your desire. I
don't think the piece in question can be one of mine, for who would
venture to publish as his own composition what is, in reality, written
by the son of the Capellmeister, and whose mother and sister are in
the same town? Addio--farewell! My sole recreations consist in dancing
English hornpipes and cutting capers. Italy is a land of sleep; I am
always drowsy here. Addio--good-bye!



20.

Bologna, August 21, 1770.

I AM not only still alive, but in capital spirits. To-day I took a fancy
to ride a donkey, for such is the custom in Italy, so I thought that I
too must give it a trial. We have the honor to associate with a certain
Dominican who is considered a very pious ascetic. I somehow don't quite
think so, for he constantly takes a cup of chocolate for breakfast, and
immediately afterwards a large glass of strong Spanish wine; and I have
myself had the privilege of dining with this holy man, when he drank a
lot of wine at dinner and a full glass of very strong wine afterwards,
two large slices of melons, some peaches and pears for dessert, five
cups of coffee, a whole plateful of nuts, and two dishes of milk and
lemons. This he may perhaps do out of bravado, but I don't think so--at
all events, it is far too much; and he eats a great deal also at his
afternoon collation.



21.

Bologna, Sept. 8, 1770.

NOT to fail in my duty, I must write a few words. I wish you would tell
me in your next letter to what brotherhoods I belong, and also let
me know the prayers I am bound to offer up for them. I am now reading
"Telemachus," and am already in the second volume. Good-bye for the
present! Love to mamma.



22.

I HOPE that mamma and you are both well, but I wish you would answer
my letters more punctually in time to come; indeed, it is far easier to
answer than to originate. I like these six minuets far better than the
first twelve; we often played them to the Countess [Pallivicini, at
whose country-seat, near Bologna, father and son spent some months].
We only wish we could succeed in introducing a taste for German minuets
into Italy, as their minuets last nearly as long as entire symphonies.
Forgive my bad writing; I could write better, but I am in such a hurry.



23.

Bologna, Sept. 29, 1770.

IN order to fill up papa's letter, I intend to add a few words. I grieve
deeply to hear of Jungfrau Marthe's long-continued illness, which the
poor girl bears, too, with such patience. I hope, please God, she may
still recover. If not, we must not grieve too much, for the will of God
is always best, and God certainly knows better than we do whether it is
most for our good to be in this world or in the next. But it will cheer
her to enjoy this fine weather once more after all the rain.



24.

Bologna, Oct. 6, 1770.

I AM heartily glad that you have been so gay; I only wish I had been
with you. I hope Jungfrau Marthe is better. To-day I played the organ at
the Dominicans. Congratulate the .... from me, and say that I sincerely
wish they may live to see the fiftieth anniversary of Father Dominikus's
saying mass, and that we may all once more have a happy meeting.

[Footnote: Jahn observes that he probably alludes to their intimate
friends, the merchant Hagenauer's family, with whom old Mozart had many
pecuniary transactions for the purpose of his travels, and whose son
entered the church in 1764.]

My best wishes to all Thereserls, and compliments to all my friends in
the house and out of the house. I wish I were likely soon to hear the
Berchtesgadner symphonies, and perhaps blow a trumpet or play a fife
in one myself. I saw and heard the great festival of St. Petronius in
Bologna. It was fine, but long. The trumpeters came from Lucca to make
the proper flourish of honor, but their trumpeting was detestable.



25.

Milan, Oct. 20, 1770.

MY DEAR MAMMA,--

I cannot write much, for my fingers ache from writing out such a
quantity of recitative. I hope you will pray for me that my opera
["Mitridate Re di Ponto"] may go off well, and that we soon may have
a joyful meeting. I kiss your hands a thousand times, and have a great
deal to say to my sister; but what? That is known only to God and
myself. Please God, I hope soon to be able to confide it to her
verbally; in the mean time, I send her a thousand kisses. My compliments
to all kind friends. We have lost our good Martherl, but we hope that by
the mercy of God she is now in a state of blessedness.



26.

Milan, Oct. 27, 1770.

MY VERY DEAREST SISTER,--

You know that I am a great talker, and was so when I left you. At
present I replace this very much by signs, for the son of this family
is deaf and dumb. I must now set to work at my opera. I regret very much
that I cannot send you the minuet you wish to have, but, God willing,
perhaps about Easter you may see both it and me. I can write no
more.--Farewell! and pray for me.



27.

Milan, Nov. 3, 1770.

MY VERY DEARLY LOVED SISTER,--

I thank you and mamma for your sincere good wishes; my most ardent
desire is to see you both soon in Salzburg. In reference to your
congratulations, I may say that I believe Herr Martinelli suggested
your Italian project. My dear sister, you are always so very clever,
and contrived it all so charmingly that, just underneath your
congratulations in Italian, followed M. Martini's compliments in the
same style of penmanship, so that I could not possibly find you out; nor
did I do so, and I immediately said to papa, "Oh! how I do wish I were
as clever and witty as she is!" Then papa answered, "Indeed, that is
true enough." On which I rejoined, "Oh! I am so sleepy;" so he merely
replied, "Then stop writing." Addio! Pray to God that my opera may be
successful. I am your brother,

W. M.,

whose fingers are weary from writing.



28.

Milan, Dec. 1, 1770.

DEAREST SISTER,--

As it is so long since I wrote to you, I thought that I might perhaps
pacify your just wrath and indignation by these lines. I have now a
great deal to work at, and to write for my opera. I trust all will go
well, with the help of God. Addio! As ever, your faithful brother,

WOLFGANG MOZART.



29.

MY DARLING SISTER,--

It is long since I have written to you, having been so much occupied
with my opera. As I have now more time, I shall attend better to my
duty. My opera, thank God, is popular, as the theatre is full every
evening, which causes great surprise, for many say that during all the
time they have lived in Milan they never saw any first opera so crowded
as on this occasion. I am thankful to say that both papa and I are quite
well, and I hope at Easter to have an opportunity of relating everything
to mamma and you. Addio! A propos, the copyist was with us yesterday,
and said that he was at that moment engaged in transcribing my opera for
the Lisbon court. Good-bye, my dear Madlle. sister,

Always and ever your attached brother.



30.

Venice, Feb 15, 1771

MY VERY DEAR SISTER,--

You have, no doubt, heard from papa that I am well. I have nothing to
write about, except my love and kisses to mamma. Give the enclosed--Al
sig. Giovanni. La signora perla ricono la riverisce tanto come anche
tutte le altre perle, e li assicuro che tutte sono inamorata di lei,
e che sperano che lei prendera per moglie tutte, come i Turchi per
contenar tutte sei. Questo scrivo in casa di Sign. Wider, il quale e un
galant' uomo come lei melo scrisse, ed jeri abbiamo finito il carnavale
da lui, cenardo da lui e poi ballammo ed andammo colle perle in
compagnie nel ridotto nuovo, che mi piacque assai. Quando sto dal Sign.
Wider e guardando fuori della finestra vedo la casa dove lei abito
quando lei fu in Venezia. Il nuovo non so niente. Venezia mi piace
assai. Il mio complimento al Sign., suo padre e madre, sorelle,
fratelli, e a tutti i miei amici ed amiche. Addio!

[Footnote: "To Herr Johannes [Hagenauer] The fair 'pearl' has the same
high opinion of you that all the other 'pearls' here have. I assure
you that they are all in love with you, and their hope is that you will
marry them all (like the Turks), and so please them every one. I write
this in the house of Signor Wider, who is an excellent man and exactly
what you wrote to me, yesterday we finished the Carnival in his house.
We supped there and then danced, and went afterwards, in company with
the 'pearls,' to the new masquerade, which amused me immensely. When
I look out of the window at Signor Wider's, I see the house that
you inhabited in Venice. I have no news. I like Venice very well. My
compliments to your father and mother, brothers and sisters, and all my
friends. Adieu!"]



31.

Venice, Feb. 20, 1771.

I AM still well, and, thank God, in the land of the living. Madame de'
Amicis has been singing at S. Benedetto. Say to Herr Johannes that the
Widerischen Berlein family are constantly speaking of him (particularly
Madlle. Catherine), so he must soon return to Vienna to encounter the
attacca--that is, in order to become a true Venetian, you must allow
yourself to be bumped down on the ground. They wished to do this to me
also, but though seven women tried it, the whole seven together did not
succeed in throwing me down. Addio!

The travellers arrived again at home towards the end of March, 1771. The
marriage of the Archduke Ferdinand with the Princess of Modena,
which took place in the October of that year, was attended with great
festivities, and recalled the father and son to Italy in the course of
a few months, Wolfgang having received a command from the Empress Maria
Theresa to compose a dramatic serenata in honor of these nuptials.



32.

Verona, August 18, 1771.

DEAREST SISTER,--

I have not slept more than half an hour, for I don't like to sleep
after eating. You may hope, believe, think, be of opinion, cherish the
expectation, desire, imagine, conceive, and confidently suppose, that we
are in good health; but I can tell you so to a certainty. Wish Herr von
Heffner a happy journey from me, and ask him if he has seen Annamindl?

[Wolfgang, who was then fifteen, had taken advantage of his leisure
during their short stay in Salzburg to fall in love for the first time.
We shall find frequent allusions to this subject. See also No. 25.]



33.

Milan, August 23, 1771.

MY VERY DEAR SISTER,--

We suffered much from heat in the course of our journey, and the dust
constantly dried us up so impertinently that we should have been choked,
or died of thirst, if we had not been too sensible for that. For a whole
month past (say the Milanese) there has been no rain here; to-day a
slight drizzle began, but the sun has now come out again, and it is once
more very warm. What you promised me (you well know my meaning, you
kind creature!) don't fail to perform, I entreat. I shall be indeed very
grateful to you. I am at this moment actually panting from the heat--I
tear open my waistcoat! Addio--good-bye!

WOLFGANG.

Above us we have a violinist, below us is another, next to us a
singing-master, who gives lessons, and, in the room opposite, a
hautboy-player. This is famous for a composer--it inspires so many fine
thoughts.



34.

Milan, August 31, 1771.

MY DEAREST SISTER,--

We are quite well, thank God! I have been eating quantities of fine
pears, peaches, and melons in your place. My greatest amusement is to
talk by signs to the dumb, which I can do to perfection. Herr Hasse [the
celebrated opera composer] arrived here yesterday, and to-day we are
going to pay him a visit. We only received the book of the Serenata
last Thursday. [Footnote: It was "Ascanio in Alba" that Wolfgang got to
compose for Milan; and it was this music which made Hasse exclaim, "This
boy will cause us all to be forgotten."] I have very little to write
about. Do not, I entreat, forget about THE ONE OTHER, where no other can
ever be. You understand me, I know.



35.

Milan, Sept. 13, 1771.

DEAR SISTER,--

I write only for writing's sake. It is indeed very inconvenient, because
I have a severe cold. Say to Fraulein W. von Molk that I rejoice at the
thoughts of Salzburg, in the hope that I may again receive the same
kind of present for the minuets which was bestowed on me at a similar
concert. She knows all about it.



36.

Milan, Sept. 21, 1771.

I AM well, God be praised! I can't write much. 1st, I have nothing to
say. 2d, my fingers ache from writing. I often whistle an air, but no
one responds. Only two arias of the Serenata are still wanting, and
then it will be finished. I have no longer any fancy for Salzburg; I am
afraid I might go mad too. [He had heard that several persons there had
lost their reason.]



37.

Milan, Oct. 5, 1771.

I AM in good health, but always sleepy. Papa has snatched from my pen
all that I had to write about, which is, that he has already written
everything. Signora Gabrielli is here, and we are soon going to see her,
as we wish to become acquainted with all distinguished singers.



38.

Milan, Oct. 26, 1771.

MY work being now completed, I have more time to write, but have nothing
to say, as papa has written you all I could have said. I am well, thank
God! but have no news, except that in the lottery the numbers 35, 59,
60, 61, and 62 have turned up prizes, so if we had selected these we
should have won; but as we did not put in at all we neither won nor
lost, but only laughed at those who did the latter. The two arias
encored in the Serenata were those of Manzuoli, and Girelli, the prima
donna, I hope you may be well amused in Triebenbach with shooting, and
(weather permitting) with walking.



39.

Milan, Nov. 2, 1771.

Papa says that Herr Kerschbaumer travels with profit and observation,
and we can testify that he conducts himself very judiciously; at all
events he can give a more satisfactory account of his journey than some
of his friends, one of whom said that he could not see Paris properly
because the houses there were too high. To-day Hasse's opera is to be
given; as papa, however, is not going, I can't go either. [FOOTNOTE:
Hasse had also a festal opera to compose, but Leopold Mozart writes, "I
am sorry to say that Wolfgang's Serenata has totally eclipsed Hasse's
opera."] Fortunately I know all the airs thoroughly by heart, so I can
see and hear them in my own thoughts at home.



40.

Milan, Nov. 24, 1771.

DEAREST SISTER,--

Herr Manzuoli, the musico, who has always been considered and esteemed
as the best of his class, has in his old age given a proof of his folly
and arrogance. He was engaged at the opera for the sum of 500 gigliati
(ducats), but as no mention was made in the contract of the Serenata, he
demanded 500 ducats more for singing in it, making 1000. The court only
sent him 700 and a gold box, (and enough too, I think,) but he returned
the 700 ducats and the box, and went away without anything. I don't know
what the result of this history will be--a bad one, I fear!



41.

Milan, Nov. 30, 1771.

That you may not suppose I am ill, I write you a few lines. I saw four
fellows hanged in the Dom Platz. They hang here just as they do in
Lyons.

We now find the father and son once more in Salzburg, in the middle of
December, 1771. Archbishop Sigismund died, and on the 14th of March,
1772, Archbishop Hieronymus was elected, who was destined to cause much
sorrow to Mozart. Soon after, in honor of the procession and homage of
the new prince, he composed the allegorical azione teatrale "Il sogno
di Scipione." In October he resumed his travels, having undertaken the
scrittura for the approaching Carnivals both at Milan and at Venice.



42.

Bologna, Oct. 28, 1772.

We have got to Botzen already. Already? rather not till now. I am
hungry, thirsty, sleepy, and lazy, but I am quite well. We saw
the monastery in Hall, and I played the organ there. When you see
Nadernannerl, tell her I spoke to Herr Brindl (her lover), and he
charged me to give her his regards. I hope that you kept your promise
and went last Sunday to D----N----[in cipher]. Farewell! write me some
news. Botzen--a pig-sty!



43.

Milan, Nov. 7, 1772.

Don't be startled at seeing my writing instead of papa's. These are the
reasons: first, we are at Herr von Oste's, and the Herr Baron Christiani
is also here, and they have so much to talk about, that papa cannot
possibly find time to write; and, secondly, he is too lazy. We arrived
here at 4 o'clock this afternoon, and are both well. All our good
friends are in the country or at Mantua, except Herr von Taste and his
wife, who send you and my sister their compliments. Herr Misliweczeck [a
young composer of operas from Paris] is still here. There is not a word
of truth either in the Italian war, which is so eagerly discussed in
Germany, or in the castles here being fortified. Forgive my bad writing.

Address your letters direct to us, for it is not the custom here, as in
Germany, to carry the letters round; we are obliged to go ourselves to
fetch them on post-days. There is nothing new here; we expect news from
Salzburg.

Not having a word more to say, I must conclude. Our kind regards to all
our friends. We kiss mamma 1,000,000,000 times (I have no room for more
noughts); and as for my sister, I would rather embrace her in persona
than in imagination.



44.

CARISSIMA SORELLA,--

Spero che voi sarete stata dalla Signora, che voi gia sapete. Vi prego,
se la videte di farla un Complimento da parte mia. Spero e non dubito
punto che voi starete bene di salute. Mi son scordato di darvi nuova,
che abbiamo qui trovato quel Sign. Belardo, ballerina, che abbiamo
conosciuto in Haye ed in Amsterdam, quello che attaco colla spada il
ballerino, il Sign. Neri, perche credeva che lui fosse cagione che non
ebbe la permission di ballar in teatro. Addio, non scordarvi di me, io
sono sempre il vostro fidele fratello.

[FOOTNOTE: "DEAREST SISTER,--I hope you have been to see the lady--you
know who. I beg that when you see her you will give her my compliments.
I hope, and do not doubt, that you are in good health. I forgot to tell
you that we found Signor Belardo here, a dancer whom we knew at the
Hague and at Amsterdam--the same person who attacked Signor Neri with
a sword, because he thought he was the cause of his not obtaining
permission to dance in the theatre. Adieu! Do not forget me, always your
faithful brother."]



45.

Milan, Nov. 21, 1772.

I thank you exceedingly--you know for what. I cannot possibly write to
Herr von Heffner. When you see him, make him read aloud what follows. I
hope he will be satisfied with it:--

"I am not to take it amiss that my unworthy friend has not answered my
letter; as soon as he has more leisure, he will certainly, beyond all
doubt, positively and punctually send me a reply."



46.

Milan, Nov. 28, 1772.

We both send our congratulations to Herr von Aman; tell him from me
that, owing to his having all along made a mystery of the affair, I feel
much annoyed, for I fear I may have said more than I ought about his
bride. I thought he had been more straightforward. One thing more. Say
to Herr von Aman that, if he wishes to have a right merry wedding, he
must be so kind as to wait till we return, so that what he promised me
may come to pass, namely, that I was to dance at his wedding. Tell Herr
Leitgeb [a horn-player in the Archbishop's orchestra] that he must come
straight to Milan, for he is sure to succeed well here; but he must come
soon. Pray let him know this, for I am anxious about it.



47.

Milan, Dec. 5, 1772.

I have now about fourteen pieces to write, and then I shall have
finished. [Footnote: He alludes to his Milan opera, "Lucio Silla."]
Indeed, the trio and the duet may be considered as four. I cannot
possibly write much, for I have no news, and in the next place I
scarcely know what I am writing, as all my thoughts are absorbed in my
opera, so there is some danger of my writing you a whole aria instead of
a letter. I have learned a new game here, called mercanti in fiera. As
soon as I come home we can play at it together. I have also learned
a new language from Frau von Taste, which is easy to speak, though
troublesome to write, but still useful. It is, I own, rather a little
childish, but will do capitally for Salzburg. My kind regards to
pretty Nandl and to the canary, for these two and yourself are the
most innocent creatures in our house. Fischietti [the Archbishop's
Capellmeister] will no doubt soon begin to work at his opera buffa
(translated into German, his CRAZY opera!). Addio!

The following letter of Wolfgang's shows the sparkling state of his
spirits, caused by the completion of his opera. At each line he turns
the page, so that one line stands, as it were, on the head of the other.
The father, too, in the joy of his heart that the arduous work was
drawing to a close, and with it his long journey, writes four lines,
one above another, round the edge of the page, so that the whole forms a
framework for a sketch of a burning heart and four triangles (symbols
of fidelity), and a bird on the wing from whose beak a distich is
streaming:--

Oh! fly to seek my child so fair Here, and there, and everywhere!

Wolfgang adds:--



48.

Milan, Dec. 18, 1772.

I HOPE, dear sister, that you are well, dear sister. When this letter
reaches you, dear sister, my opera will be in scena, dear sister. Think
of me, dear sister, and try, dear sister, to imagine with all your might
that my dear sister sees and hears it also. In truth, it is hard to say,
as it is now eleven o'clock at night, but I do believe, and don't at
all doubt, that in the daytime it is brighter than at Easter. My dear
sister, to-morrow we dine with Herr von Mayer; and do you know why?
Guess! Because he invited us. The rehearsal to-morrow is to be in the
theatre. The impresario, Signor Cassiglioni, has entreated me not to say
a word of this to a soul, as all kinds of people would come crowding in,
and that we don't wish. So, my child, I beg, my child, that you won't
say one syllable to any one on the subject, or too many people would
come crowding in, my child. Approposito, do you know the history
that occurred here? Well, I will relate it to you. We were going home
straight from Count Firmiani's, and when we came into our street we
opened our door, and what do you think happened? We went in. Good-bye,
my pet. Your unworthy brother (frater),

WOLFGANG.



On the 26th of December "an incomparable performance" of "Lucio Silla"
took place; it was eminently successful, and continued to fill the house
night after night in the most surprising way. The father writes home
regularly, and Wolfgang subjoins the usual postscripts, which, however,
at this time contain nothing worth quoting. We give only part of an
Italian letter which he writes for practice:--



49.

.... Vi prego di dire al Sig. Giovanni Hagenauer da parte mia, che non
dubiti, che andro a veder sicuramente in quella bottega delle armi, se
ci sono quei nomi [?] che lui desidera, e che senza dubbio doppo averlo
trovato le portero meco a Salisburgo. Mi dispiace che il Sig. Leitgeb
e partito tanto tardi da Salisburgo [see No. 46] che non trovera piu in
scena la mia opera e forte non ci trovera nemeno, se non in viaggio.

Hieri sera era la prima prova coi stromenti della seconda opera, ma ho
sentito solamente il primo atto, perche a secondo mene andiedi essendo
gia tardi. In quest' opera saranno sopra il balco 24 cavalli e . . .
mondo di gente, che saro miracolo se non succede qualche disgrazia. La
musica mi piace; se piace al replico non so, perche alle prime prove non
e lecito l' andarci che alle personne che sono del Teatro. Io spero che
domani il mio padre potra uscir di casa. Sta sera fa cativissimo tempo.
La Signora Teyber e adesso a Bologna e il carnevale venturo recitera a
Turino e l'anno sussiquente poi va a cantare a Napoli.

[Footnote: "Pray say from me to Johannes Hagenauer, that he may entirely
rely on my going to the armorer's shop, to see if I can procure what
he desires, and after getting it I will not fail to bring it with me to
Salzburg. I regret that Herr Leitgeb delayed so long leaving Salzburg
[see No. 46], for he will no longer find my opera in scena, nor will he
find us either unless we meet on our travels. Yesterday evening was our
first rehearsal of the second opera with instruments, but I only heard
the first act, for I went away at the second, because it was so very
late. In this opera there are to be twenty-four horses and a crowd of
people on the stage at the same time, so it will be surprising if no
accident happens. The music pleases me; whether it will please others
I cannot tell, for no persons but those belonging to the theatre are
permitted to attend the first rehearsals. I hope that papa will be able
to leave the house to-morrow. The weather is detestable this evening.
Madame Teyber is now at Bologna; she is to act at Turin in the ensuing
Carnival, and the year following she is to sing at Naples."]

After enjoying some more of the amusements of the Carnival, they arrived
again in Salzburg about the middle of March. This place, or rather their
position at court there, was in the highest degree repugnant to both; so
the father, in the course of his travels, applied to the Grand-Duke of
Tuscany for an appointment for his son. As, however, nothing was to
be got in that quarter, he directed his views to the Imperial capital
itself; and thus, at the end of three months, we find him again with
his son in Vienna. From thence Wolfgang often wrote to his loved ones at
home.



50.

Vienna, August 14, 1773.

I HOPE that your Majesty [Footnote 1: O. Jahn remarks that this epithet
is a reminiscence of a fantastic game that often amused the boy on his
journeys. He imagined a kingdom, the inhabitants of which were endowed
with every gift that could make them good and happy.] enjoys the best
state of health; and yet that now and then--or rather sometimes--or,
better still, from time to time--or, still better, qualche volta, as
the Italians say--your Majesty will impart to me some of your grave
and important thoughts (emanating from that most admirable and solid
judgment which, in addition to beauty, your Majesty so eminently
possesses; and thus, although in such tender years, my Queen casts into
the shade not only the generality of men but even the gray-haired).

P. S. This is a most sensible production.



51.

Vienna, August 21, 1773.

When we contemplate the benefit of time, and yet are not entirely
oblivious of the estimation in which we ought to hold the sun, then it
is quite certain, Heaven be praised! that I am quite well. My second
proposition is of a very different character. Instead of sun, let us
put moon, and instead of benefit, science; then any one, gifted with
a certain amount of reasoning powers, will at once draw the conclusion
that--I am a fool because you are my sister. How is Miss Bimbles? [the
dog.] I beg you will convey all sorts of amiable messages from me to
her. I also send my kind remembrances to M. Kreibich [conductor of the
Imperial chamber-music], whom we knew at Presburg and also at Vienna;
and very best regards from Her Majesty the Empress, Frau Fischerin, and
Prince Kaunitz. Oidda!

GNAGFLOW TRAZOM.



52.

Vienna, Sept. 15, 1773.

WE are quite well, thank God; on this occasion we have contrived to make
time to write to you, although we have so much business to do. We hope
you also are well. Dr. Niderl's death grieved us very much. I assure you
we cried a good deal, and moaned and groaned. Our kind regards to "Alle
gute Geister loben Gott den Herrn" [to all good spirits who praise the
Lord], and to all our friends. We graciously remain

Yours, WOLFGANG.

Given from our capital of Vienna.



The travellers returned home the end of September, for no situation was
to be found in Vienna either; indeed, they did not even give a public
concert there. Wolfgang remained in his native town during the whole of
the ensuing year, writing instrumental and church music. At length he
received a commission from the Elector of Bavaria, Maximilian III., to
write an opera buffa for the Carnival of 1775,--"La finta Giardiniera."



53.

Munich, Dec. 28, 1774.

My Dearest Sister,

I entreat you not to forget, before your journey, [FOOTNOTE: Nannerl had
also the most eager desire to see the new opera, and the father at last
succeeded in getting a lodging for her in the large market place, in the
house of a widow, "a black-eyed brunette," Frau von Durst.] to perform
your promise, that is, to make a certain visit. I have my reasons for
this. Pray present my kind regards in that quarter, but in the most
impressive and tender manner--the most tender; and, oh!----but I need
not be in such anxiety on the subject, for I know my sister and her
peculiarly loving nature, and I feel quite convinced that she will do
all she can to give me pleasure--and from self-interest, too--rather
a spiteful hit that! [Nannerl was considered a little selfish by her
family.]



54.

Munich, Dec. 30, 1774.

I BEG my compliments to Roxalana, who is to drink tea this evening with
the Sultan, All sorts of pretty speeches to Madlle. Mizerl; she must not
doubt my love. I have her constantly before my eyes in her fascinating
neglige. I have seen many pretty girls here, but not one whose beauty
can be compared with hers. Do not forget to bring the variations on
Ekart's menuet d'exaude, and also those on Fischer's minuet. I was at
the theatre last night. The play was "Der Mode nach der Haushaltung,"
which was admirably acted. My kind regards to all my friends. I trust
that you will not fail to--Farewell! I hope to see you soon in Munich.
Frau von Durst sends you her remembrances. Is it true that Hagenauer is
become a professor of sculpture in Vienna? Kiss mamma's hand for me,
and now I stop for to-day. Wrap yourself up warmly on your journey, I
entreat, or else you may chance to pass the fourteen days of your visit
in the house, stifling beside a stove, unable once to move. I see the
vivid lightning flash, and fear there soon will be a crash!

Your brother.



55.

To HIS MOTHER.

Munich, Jan. 11, 1775.

WE are all three well, Heaven be praised! I cannot possibly write much,
for I must go forthwith to the rehearsal. Tomorrow the grand rehearsal
takes place, and on the 13th my opera is to be in scena. I am much vexed
that you should cast any slight on Count Seeau [Intendant of the Munich
Theatre], for no one can be more kind or courteous, and he has more good
breeding than many of his degree in Munich. Herr von Molk was in such a
state of wonder and admiration at the opera seria when he heard it, that
we felt quite ashamed of him, for it clearly showed every one that he
had never in his life seen anything but Salzburg and Innspruck. Addio!



56.

To HIS MOTHER.

Munich, Jan. 14, 1775.

GOD be praised! My opera was given yesterday, the 13th, and proved so
successful that I cannot possibly describe all the tumult. In the first
place, the whole theatre was so crammed that many people were obliged
to go away. After each aria there was invariably a tremendous uproar and
clapping of hands, and cries of Viva Maestro! Her Serene Highness the
Electress and the Dowager (who were opposite me) also called out Bravo!
When the opera was over, during the interval when all is usually quiet
till the ballet begins, the applause and shouts of Bravo! were renewed;
sometimes there was a lull, but only to recommence afresh, and so forth.
I afterwards went with papa to a room through which the Elector and
the whole court were to pass. I kissed the hands of the Elector and the
Electress and the other royalties, who were all very gracious. At an
early hour this morning the Prince Bishop of Chiemsee [who had most
probably procured the scrittura for his young friend Wolfgang] sent to
congratulate me that the opera had proved such a brilliant success in
every respect. As to our return home, it is not likely to be soon, nor
should mamma wish it, for she must know well what a good thing it is to
have a little breathing time. We shall come quite soon enough to----.
One most just and undeniable reason is, that my opera is to be given
again on Friday next, and I am very necessary at the performance, or it
might be difficult to recognize it again. There are very odd ways here.
1000 kisses to Miss Bimberl [the dog].

The Archbishop of Salzburg, who was very reluctant to admit the merits
of his Concertmeister, was an involuntary witness of the universal
approbation bestowed on Wolfgang's opera, although he would not go
to hear it himself. On the 18th of January, 1775, Wolfgang added the
following lines to his father's letter:--



57.

MY DEAR SISTER,

[FOOTNOTE: Nannerl had not yet gone home, but was enjoying the Carnival
in various masks.]

How can I help the clock choosing at this moment to strike a quarter
after seven o'clock? It is not papa's fault either. Mamma will hear all
the rest from you. At present there is no fair sailing for me, as
the Archbishop is staying here, though not for long. It is currently
reported that he is to remain till he sets off again! I only regret that
he is not to see the first masked ball.

Your faithful FRANZ v. NASENBLUT.

Milan, May 5, 1756.


Immediately after Ash Wednesday the trio returned to Salzburg, where
Mozart remained uninterruptedly for another year and a half, actively
engaged in the duties of his situation. He wrote the following letter
on the 4th of September, 1776, to the celebrated Pater Martini in
Bologna:--



58.

MOLTO REVDO PADE MAESTRO, PADRONE MIO STIMATISSIMO,--La venerazione,
la stima e il rispetto, che porto verso la di lei degnissima persona mi
spinse di incommodarla colle presente e di mandargli un debole pezzo
di mia musica, rimmettendola alla di lei maestrale giudicatura. Scrissi
l'anno scorso il Carnevale una opera buffa ("La finta Giardiniera") a
Monaco in Baviera. Pochi giorni avanti la mia partenza di la desiderava
S. A. Elletorale di sentire qualche mia musica in contrapunto: era
adunque obligato di scriver questo Motetto in fretta per dar tempo
a copiar il spartito per Sua Altezza ed a cavar le parti per poter
produrlo la prossima domenica sotto la Messa grande in tempo
del Offertorio. Carissimo e stimatissimo Sigr. P. Maestro! Lei e
ardentemente pregato di dirmi francamente e senza riserva il di lei
parere. Viviamo in questo mondo per imparare sempre industriosamente, e
per mezzo dei raggionamenti di illuminarsi l'un l'altro e d'affatigarsi
di portar via sempre avanti le scienze e le belle arti. Oh quante e
quante volte desidero d'esser piu vicino per poter parlar e raggionar
con Vostra Paternita molto Revda. Vivo in una paese dove la musica fa
pocchissimo fortuna, benche oltre di quelli che ci hanno abandonati, ne
abbiamo ancora bravissimi professori e particolarmente compositori di
gran fondo, sapere e gusto. Per il teatro stiamo male per mancanza dei
recitanti. Non abbiamo Musici e non gli averemo si facilmente, giache
vogliono esser ben pagati: e la generosita, non e il nostro difetto. Io
mi diverto intanto a scrivere per la camera e per la chiesa: e ne
son quivi altri due bravissimi contrapuntisti, cioe il Sgr. Haydn e
Adlgasser. Il mio padre e maestro della chiesa Metropolitana, che mi da
l'occasione di scrivere per la chiesa, quanto che ne voglio. Per altro
il mio padre gia 36 anni in servizio di questa Corte e sapendo, che
questo Arcivescovo non puo e non vuol vedere gente avanzata in eta, non
lo se ne prende a core, si e messo alla letteratura per altro gia suo
studio favorito. La nostra musica di chiesa e assai differente di quella
d'Italia e sempre piu, che una Messa con tutto il Kyrie, Gloria, Credo,
la Sonata all' Epistola, l'Offertorio osia Motetto, Sanctus ed Agnus
Dei, ed anche la piu solenne, quando dice la Messa il Principe stesso,
non ha da durare che al piu longo 3 quarti d'ora. Ci vuole un studio
particolare per queste sorte di compositione, e che deve pero essere una
Messa con tutti stromenti--Trombe di guerra, Tympani ecc. Ah! che
siamo si lontani Carissmo Sgr. P. Maestro, quante cose che avrai a
dirgli!--Reverisco devotamente tutti i Sgri. Filarmonici: mi raccommando
via sempre nelle grazie di lei e non cesso d'affligermi nel vedermi
lontano dalla persona del mondo che maggiormente amo, venero e stimo, e
di cui inviolabilmente mi protesto di V. Pta molto Rda

umilissmo e devotssmo servitore,

WOLFGANGO AMADEO MOZART.

Salisburgo, 4 Settembre, 1776.

[FOOTNOTE:

To Father Martini.

"Salzburg, Sept. 4, 1776.

"MOST REVEREND AND ESTEEMED FATHER AND MAESTRO,--

"The veneration, the esteem, and the respect I feel for your illustrious
person, induce me to intrude on you with this letter, and also to send
you a small portion of my music, which I venture to submit to your
masterly judgment. Last year, at Monaco, in Bavaria, I wrote an opera
buffa ("La finta Giardiniera") for the Carnival. A few days previous to
my departure from thence, his Electoral Highness wished to hear some of
my contrapuntal music; I was therefore obliged to write this motett in
haste, to allow time for the score to be copied for his Highness, and to
arrange the parts so that it might be produced on the following Sunday
at grand mass at the offertory. Most dear and highly esteemed Maestro,
I do entreat you to give me unreservedly your candid opinion of the
motett. We live in this world in order always to learn industriously,
and to enlighten each other by means of discussion, and to strive
vigorously to promote the progress of science and the fine arts. Oh,
how many and many a time have I desired to be nearer you, that I might
converse and discuss with your Reverence! I live in a country where
music has very little success, though, exclusive of those who have
forsaken us, we have still admirable professors, and more particularly
composers of great solidity, knowledge, and taste. We are rather badly
off at the theatre from the want of actors. We have no MUSICI, nor shall
we find it very easy to get any, because they insist upon being well
paid, and generosity is not a failing of ours. I amuse myself in the
mean time by writing church and chamber music, and we have two excellent
contrapuntists here, Haydn and Adlgasser. My father is maestro at the
Metropolitan church, which gives me an opportunity to write for the
church as much as I please. Moreover, my father has been thirty-six
years in the service of this court, and knowing that our present
Archbishop neither can nor will endure the sight of elderly people, he
does not take it to heart, but devotes himself to literature, which was
always his favorite pursuit Our church music is rather different from
that of Italy, and the more so, as a mass including the Kyne, Gloria,
Credo, the Sonata all Epistola, the Offertory or Motett, Sanctus, and
Agnus Dei, and even a solemn mass, when the Prince himself officiates,
must never last more than three-quarters of an hour. A particular course
of study is required for this class of composition. And what must such
a mass be, scored with all the instruments, war-drums, cymbals, &c, &c!
Oh! why are we so far apart, dearest Signor Maestro? for how many things
I have to say to you! I devoutly revere all the Signori Filarmonici. I
venture to recommend myself to your good opinion, I shall never cease
regretting being so distant from the person in the world whom I most
love, venerate, and esteem. I beg to subscribe myself, reverend Father,
always your most humble and devoted servant,

"WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART"]




SECOND PART.--MUNICH, AUGSBURG, MANNHEIM.--SEPTEMBER 1771 TO MARCH 1778.


On the 22d of December, 1777, Mozart's father wrote as follows to Padre
Martini in Bologna:--"My son has been now five years in the service of
our Prince, at a mere nominal salary, hoping that by degrees his earnest
endeavors and any talents he may possess, combined with the utmost
industry and most unremitting study, would be rewarded; but in this hope
we find ourselves deceived. I forbear all allusion to our Prince's mode
of thinking and acting; but he was not ashamed to declare that my son
knew nothing, and that he ought to go to the musical training school in
Naples to learn music. And why did he say all this? In order to intimate
that a young man should not be so absurd as to believe that he deserved
a rather higher salary after such a decisive verdict had issued from the
lips of a prince. This has induced me to sanction my son giving up his
present situation. He therefore left Salzburg on the 23d of September"
[with his mother].



59.

Wasserburg, Sept. 23, 1777.

Mon Tres-Cher Pere,--

God be praised! we reached Waging, Stain, Ferbertshaim, and Wasserburg
safely. Now for a brief report of our journey. When we arrived at the
city gates, we were kept waiting for nearly a quarter of an hour till
they could be thrown open for us, as they were under repair. Near Schinn
we met a drove of cows, and one of these very remarkable, for each side
was a different color, which we never before saw. When at last we got to
Schinn, we met a carriage, which stopped, and ecce, our postilion called
out we must change. "I don't care," said I. Mamma and I were parleying,
when a portly gentleman came up, whose physiognomy I at once recognized;
he was a Memmingen merchant. He stared at me for some time, and at last
said, "You surely are Herr Mozart?" "At your service," said I; "I
know you, too, by sight, but not your name. I saw you, a year ago, at
Mirabell's [the palace garden in Salzburg] at a concert." He then told
me his name, which, thank God! I have forgotten; but I retained one of
probably more importance to me. When I saw this gentleman in Salzburg,
he was accompanied by a young man whose brother was now with him, and
who lives in Memmingen. His name is Herr Unhold, and he pressed me very
much to come to Memmingen if possible. We sent a hundred thousand loves
to papa by them, and to my sister, the madcap, which they promised to
deliver without fail. This change of carriages was a great bore to me,
for I wished to send a letter back from Waging by the postilion. We then
(after a slight meal) had the honor of being conveyed as far as Stain,
by the aforesaid post-horses, in an hour and a half. At Waging I was
alone for a few minutes with the clergyman, who looked quite amazed,
knowing nothing of our history. From Stain we were driven by a most
tiresome phlegmatic postilion--N. B., in driving I mean; we thought we
never were to arrive at the next stage. At last we did arrive, as
you may see from my writing this letter. (Mamma is half asleep.) From
Ferbertshaim to Wasserburg all went on well. Viviamo come i principi;
we want nothing except you, dear papa. Well, this is the will of God; no
doubt all will go on right. I hope to hear that papa is as well as I am
and as happy. Nothing comes amiss to me; I am quite a second papa, and
look after everything.[Footnote: The father had been very uneasy at the
idea of allowing the inexperienced youth, whose unsuspicious good-nature
exposed him still more to danger, to travel alone; for the mother also
was not very expert in travelling.] I settled from the first to pay the
postilions, for I can talk to such fellows better than mamma. At the
Stern, in Wasserburg, we are capitally served; I am treated here like
a prince. About half an hour ago (mamma being engaged at the time) the
Boots knocked at the door to take my orders about various things, and
I gave them to him with the same grave air that I have in my portrait.
Mamma is just going to bed. We both beg that papa will be careful of
his health, not go out too early, nor fret, [Footnote: The Father was
strongly disposed to hypochondria.] but laugh and be merry and in good
spirits. We think the Mufti H. C. [the Archbishop Hieronymus Colloredo]
a MUFF, but we know God to be compassionate, merciful, and loving. I
kiss papa's hands a thousand times, and embrace my SISTER MADCAP as
often as I have to-day taken snuff. I think I have left my diplomas at
home? [his appointment at court.] I beg you will send them to me soon.
My pen is rude, and I am not refined.



60.

Munich, Sept. 26, 1777.

WE arrived safely in Munich on the afternoon of the 24th, at half-past
four o'clock. A complete novelty to me was being obliged to drive to the
Custom House, escorted by a grenadier with a fixed bayonet. The
first person we knew, who met us when driving, was Signor Consoli; he
recognized me at once, and showed the utmost joy at seeing me again.
Next day he called on us. I cannot attempt to describe the delight of
Herr Albert [the "learned landlord" of the Black Eagle, on the Kaufinger
Gasse, now Hotel Detzer]; he is indeed a truly honest man, and a very
good friend of ours. On my arrival I went to the piano, and did not
leave it till dinner-time. Herr Albert was not at home, but he soon
came in, and we went down to dinner together. There I met M. Sfeer and
a certain secretary, an intimate friend of his; both send their
compliments to you. Though tired by our journey, we did not go to bed
till late; we, however, rose next morning at seven o'clock. My hair was
in such disorder that I could not go to Count Seeau's till half-past
ten o'clock. When I got there I was told that he had driven out to the
chasse. Patience! In the mean time I wished to call on Chorus-master
Bernard, but he had gone to the country with Baron Schmid. I found
Herr von Belvall deeply engaged in business; he sent you a thousand
compliments. Rossi came to dinner, and at two o'clock Consoli, and
at three arrived Becke [a friend of Mozart's and an admirable
flute-player], and also Herr von Belvall. I paid a visit to Frau
von Durst [with whom Nannerl had lived], who now lodges with the
Franciscans. At six o'clock I took a short walk with Herr Becke. There
is a Professor Huber here, whom you may perhaps remember better than I
do; he says that the last time he either saw or heard me was at Vienna,
at Herr von Mesmer's, junior. He is neither tall nor short, pale,
with silvery-gray hair, and his physiognomy rather like that of Herr
Unterbereiter. This gentleman is vice-intendant of the theatre; his
occupation is to read through all the comedies to be acted, to improve
or to spoil, to add to or to put them aside. He comes every evening to
Albert's, and often talks to me. To-day, Friday, the 26th, I called on
Count Seeau at half-past eight o'clock. This was what passed. As I was
going into the house I met Madame Niesser, the actress, just coming out,
who said, "I suppose you wish to see the Count?" "Yes!" "He is still in
his garden, and Heaven knows when he may come!" I asked her where the
garden was. "As I must see him also," said she, "let us go together."
We had scarcely left the house when we saw the Count coming towards us
about twelve paces off; he recognized and instantly named me. He was
very polite, and seemed already to know all that had taken place about
me. We went up the steps together slowly and alone; I told him briefly
the whole affair. He said that I ought at once to request an audience of
his Highness the Elector, but that, if I failed in obtaining it, I
must make a written statement. I entreated him to keep this all quite
private, and he agreed to do so. When I remarked to him that there
really was room for a genuine composer here, he said, "I know that
well." I afterwards went to the Bishop of Chiemsee, and was with him for
half an hour. I told him everything, and he promised to do all he
could for me in the matter. At one o'clock he drove to Nymphenburg, and
declared positively he would speak to the Electress. On Sunday the Count
comes here. Herr Joannes Kronner has been appointed Vice-Concertmeister,
which he owes to a blunt speech of his. He has produced two
symphonies--Deo mene liberi [God preserve me from such]--of his own
composition. The Elector asked him, "Did you really compose these?"
"Yes, your Royal Highness!" "From whom did you learn?" "From a
schoolmaster in Switzerland, where so much importance is attached to
the study of composition. This schoolmaster taught me more than all your
composers here, put together, could teach me." Count Schonborn and his
Countess, a sister of the Archbishop [of Salzburg], passed through here
to-day. I chanced to be at the play at the time. Herr Albert, in the
course of conversation, told them that I was here, and that I had given
up my situation. They were all astonishment, and positively refused to
believe him when he said that my salary, of blessed memory, was only
twelve florins thirty kreuzers! They merely changed horses, and would
gladly have spoken with me, but I was too late to meet them. Now I must
inquire what you are doing, and how you are. Mamma and I hope that you
are quite well. I am still in my very happiest humor; my head feels as
light as a feather since I got away from that chicanery. I have grown
fatter already.



61.

Munich, Sept. 29, 1777.

TRUE enough, a great many kind friends, but unluckily most of them have
little or nothing in their power. I was with Count Seeau yesterday, at
half-past ten o'clock, and found him graver and less natural than the
first time; but it was only in appearance, for to-day I was at Prince
Zeill's [Bishop of Chiemsee--No. 56], who, with all courtesy, said
to me, "I don't think we shall effect much here. During dinner, at
Nymphenburg, I spoke privately to the Elector, who replied: 'It is
too soon at this moment; he must leave this and go to Italy and become
famous. I do not actually reject him, but these are too early days
as yet.'" There it is! Most of these grandees have such paroxysms of
enthusiasm for Italy. Still, he advised me to go to the Elector, and
to place my case before him as I had previously intended. I spoke
confidentially at dinner to-day with Herr Woschitka [violoncellist in
the Munich court orchestra, and a member of the Elector's private band],
and he appointed me to come to-morrow at nine o'clock, when he will
certainly procure me an audience. We are very good friends now. He
insisted on knowing the name of my informant; but I said to him, "Rest
assured that I am your friend and shall continue to be so; I am in turn
equally convinced of your friendship, so you must be satisfied with
this." But to return to my narrative. The Bishop of Chiemsee also spoke
to the Electress when tete-a-tete with her. She shrugged her shoulders,
and said she would do her best, but was very doubtful as to her success.
I now return to Count Seeau, who asked Prince Zeill (after he had told
him everything). "Do you know whether Mozart has not enough from his
family to enable him to remain here with a little assistance? I should
really like to keep him." Prince Zeill answered: "I don't know, but
I doubt it much; all you have to do is to speak to himself on the
subject." This, then, was the cause of Count Seeau being so thoughtful
on the following day. I like being here, and I am of the same opinion
with many of my friends, that if I could only remain here for a year
or two, I might acquire both money and fame by my works, and then more
probably be sought by the court than be obliged to seek it myself. Since
my return here Herr Albert has a project in his head, the fulfilment of
which does not seem to me impossible. It is this: He wishes to form an
association of ten kind friends, each of these to subscribe 1 ducat (50
gulden) monthly, 600 florins a year. If in addition to this I had even
200 florins per annum from Count Seeau, this would make 800 florins
altogether. How does papa like this idea? Is it not friendly? Ought not
I to accept it if they are in earnest? I am perfectly satisfied with
it; for I should be near Salzburg, and if you, dearest papa, were seized
with a fancy to leave Salzburg (which from my heart I wish you were) and
to pass your life in Munich, how easy and pleasant would it be! For if
we are obliged to live in Salzburg with 504 florins, surely we might
live in Munich with 800.

To-day, the 30th, after a conversation with Herr Woschitka, I went to
court by appointment. Every one was in hunting-costume. Baron Kern was
the chamberlain on service. I might have gone there last night, but
I could not offend M. Woschitka, who himself offered to find me an
opportunity of speaking to the Elector. At 10 o'clock he took me into a
narrow little room, through which his Royal Highness was to pass on his
way to hear mass, before going to hunt. Count Seeau went by, and greeted
me very kindly: "How are you, dear Mozart?" When the Elector came up to
me, I said, "Will your Royal Highness permit me to pay my homage and
to offer your Royal Highness my services?" "So you have finally left
Salzburg?" "I have left it forever, your Royal Highness. I only asked
leave to make a journey, and being refused, I was obliged to take this
step, although I have long intended to leave Salzburg, which is no place
for me, I feel sure." "Good heavens! you are quite a young man. But your
father is still in Salzburg?" "Yes, your Royal Highness; he humbly lays
his homage at your feet, &c., &c. I have already been three times in
Italy. I have written three operas, and am a member of the Bologna
Academy; I underwent a trial where several maestri toiled and labored
for four or five hours, whereas I finished my work in one. This is
a sufficient testimony that I have abilities to serve any court. My
greatest wish is to be appointed by your Royal Highness, who is himself
such a great &c., &c." "But, my good young friend, I regret that there
is not a single vacancy. If there were only a vacancy!" "I can assure
your Royal Highness that I would do credit to Munich." "Yes, but what
does that avail when there is no vacancy?" This he said as he was moving
on; so I bowed and took leave of his Royal Highness. Herr Woschitka
advises me to place myself often in the way of the Elector. This
afternoon I went to Count Salern's. His daughter is a maid of honor, and
was one of the hunting-party. Ravani and I were in the street when the
whole procession passed. The Elector and the Electress noticed me very
kindly. Young Countess Salern recognized me at once, and waved her
hand to me repeatedly. Baron Rumling, whom I had previously seen in the
antechamber, never was so courteous to me as on this occasion. I will
soon write to you what passed with Salern. He was very kind, polite, and
straightforward.--P. S. Ma tres-chere soeur, next time I mean to write
you a letter all for yourself. My remembrances to B. C. M. R. and
various other letters of the alphabet. Adieu! A man built a house here
and inscribed on it: "Building is beyond all doubt an immense pleasure,
but I little thought that it would cost so much treasure." During the
night some one wrote underneath, "You ought first to have counted the
cost."



62.

Munich, Oct. 2, 1777.

YESTERDAY, October 1st, I was again at Count Salern's, and to-day I even
dined with him. I have played a great deal during the last three days,
and with right good will too. Papa must not, however, imagine that I
like to be at Count Salern's on account of the young lady; by no means,
for she is unhappily in waiting, and therefore never at home, but I am
to see her at court to-morrow morning, at ten o'clock, in company with
Madame Hepp, formerly Madlle. Tosson. On Saturday the court leaves this,
and does not return till the 20th. To-morrow I am to dine with Madame
and Madlle. de Branca, the latter being a kind of half pupil of mine,
for Sigl seldom comes, and Becke, who usually accompanies her on the
flute, is not here. On the three days that I was at Count Salern's I
played a great many things extempore--two Cassations [Divertimentos]
for the Countess, and the finale and Rondo, and the latter by heart.
You cannot imagine the delight this causes Count Salern. He understands
music, for he was constantly saying Bravo! while other gentlemen were
taking snuff, humming and hawing, and clearing their throats, or holding
forth. I said to him, "How I do wish the Elector were only here, that he
might hear me play! He knows nothing of me--he does not know what I can
do. How sad it is that these great gentlemen should believe what any one
tells them, and do not choose to judge for themselves! BUT IT IS ALWAYS
SO. Let him put me to the test. He may assemble all the composers in
Munich, and also send in quest of some from Italy and France, Germany,
and England and Spain, and I will undertake to write against them all."
I related to him all that had occurred to me in Italy, and begged him,
if the conversation turned on me, to bring in these things. He said, "I
have very little influence, but the little that is in my power I will
do with pleasure." He is also decidedly of opinion that if I could only
remain here, the affair would come right of itself. It would not be
impossible for me to contrive to live, were I alone here, for I should
get at least 300 florins from Count Seeau. My board would cost little,
for I should be often invited out; and even were it not so, Albert would
always be charmed to see me at dinner in his house. I eat little, drink
water, and for dessert take only a little fruit and a small glass
of wine. Subject to the advice of my kind friends, I would make the
following contract with Count Seeau:--I would engage to produce every
year four German operas, partly buffe and partly serie; from each of
these I should claim the profits of one performance, for such is the
custom here. This alone would bring me in 500 florins, which along with
my salary would make up 800 florins, but in all probability more; for
Reiner, an actor and singer, cleared 200 florins by his benefit, and
I am VERY MUCH BELOVED HERE, and how much more so should I be if I
contributed to the elevation of the national theatre of Germany in
music! And this would certainly be the case with me, for I was inspired
with the most eager desire to write when I heard the German operettas.
The name of the first singer here is Keiserin; her father is cook to a
count here; she is a very pleasing girl, and pretty on the stage; I have
not yet seen her near. She is a native of this place. When I heard her
it was only her third appearance on the stage. She has a fine voice, not
powerful, though by no means weak, very pure, and a good intonation.
Her instructor is Valesi; and her style of singing shows that her master
knows how to sing as well as how to teach. When she sustains her
voice for a couple of bars, I am quite surprised at the beauty of her
crescendo and decrescendo. She as yet takes her shakes slowly, and this
I highly approve of, for it will be all the more pure and clear if she
ever wishes to take it quicker; besides, it is easier when quick. She is
a great favorite with the people here, and with me.

Mamma was in the pit; she went as early as half-past four o'clock to get
a place. I, however, did not go till half-past six o'clock, for I can go
to any box I please, being pretty well known. I was in the Brancas' box;
I looked at Keiserin with my opera-glass, and at times she drew tears
from my eyes. I often called out bravo, bravissimo, for I always
remembered that it was only her third appearance. The piece was Das
Fischermadchen, a very good translation of Piccini's opera, with his
music. As yet they have no original pieces, but are now anxious soon
to give a German opera seria, and a strong wish prevails that I should
compose it. The aforesaid Professor Huber is one of those who wish
this. I shall now go to bed, for I can sit up no longer. It is just ten
o'clock. Baron Rumling lately paid me the following compliment: "The
theatre is my delight--good actors and actresses, good singers, and a
clever composer, such as yourself." This is indeed only talk, and words
are not of much value, but he never before spoke to me in this way.

I write this on the 3d of October. To-morrow the court departs, and does
not return till the 20th. If it had remained here, I would have taken
the step I intended, and stayed on here for a time; but as it is, I hope
to resume my journey with mamma next Tuesday. But meanwhile the project
of the associated friends, which I lately wrote to you about, may be
realized, so that when we no longer care to travel we shall have a
resource to fall back upon. Herr von Krimmel was to-day with the Bishop
of Chiemsee, with whom he has a good deal to do on the subject of salt.
He is a strange man; here he is called "your Grace,"--that is, THE
LACKEYS do so. Having a great desire that I should remain here, he spoke
very zealously to the Prince in my favor. He said to me, "Only let me
alone; I will speak to the Prince, and I have a right to do so, for I
have done many things to oblige him." The Prince promised him that I
should POSITIVELY be appointed, but the affair cannot be so quickly
settled. On the return of the court he is to speak to the Elector with
all possible earnestness and zeal. At eight o'clock this morning I
called on Count Seeau. I was very brief, and merely said, "I have only
come, your Excellency, to explain my case clearly. I have been told that
I ought to go to Italy, which is casting a reproach on me. I was sixteen
months in Italy, I have written three operas, and all this is notorious
enough. What further occurred, your Excellency will see from these
papers." And after showing him the diplomata, I added, "I only show
these and say this to your Excellency that, in the event of my being
spoken of, and any injustice done me, your Excellency may with good
grounds take my part." He asked me if I was now going to France. I said
I intended to remain in Germany; by this, however, he supposed I meant
Munich, and said, with a merry laugh, "So you are to stay here after
all?" I replied, "No! to tell you the truth, I should like to have
stayed, if the Elector had favored me with a small sum, so that I might
then have offered my compositions to your Excellency devoid of all
interested motives. It would have been a pleasure to me to do this." At
these words he half lifted his skull-cap.

At ten o'clock I went to court to call on Countess Salern. I dined
afterwards with the Brancas. Herr Geheimrath von Branca, having been
invited by the French Ambassador, was not at home. He is called "your
Excellency." Countess Salern is a Frenchwoman, and scarcely knows a word
of German; so I have always been in the habit of talking French to her.
I do so quite boldly, and she says that I don't speak at all badly,
and that I have the good habit of speaking slowly, which makes me more
easily understood. She is a most excellent person, and very well-bred.
The daughter plays nicely, but fails in time. I thought this arose from
want of ear on her part, but I find I can blame no one but her teacher,
who is too indulgent and too easily satisfied. I practised with her
to-day, and I could pledge myself that if she were to learn from me for
a couple of months, she would play both well and accurately.

At four o'clock I went to Frau von Tosson's, where I found mamma and
also Frau von Hepp. I played there till eight o'clock, and after that
we went home; and at half-past nine a small band of music arrived,
consisting of five persons--two clarionet-players, two horns, and one
bassoon. Herr Albert (whose name-day is to-morrow) arranged this music
in honor of me and himself. They played rather well together, and were
the same people whom we hear during dinner at Albert's, but it is well
known that they are trained by Fiala. They played some of his pieces,
and I must say they are very pretty: he has some excellent ideas.
To-morrow we are to have a small musical party together, where I am
to play. (Nota bene, on that miserable piano! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh,
dear!) I beg you will excuse my horrid writing, but ink, haste, sleep,
and dreams are all against me. I am now and forever amen, your dutiful
son,

A. W. MOZART.



63.

Munich, Oct. 6, 1777.

Mamma cannot write; in the first place, she is not inclined, and,
secondly, she has a headache. So I must hold the pen for her and keep
faith with her. I am just going with the Professor to call on Madlle.
Keiserin. Yesterday we had in our house a clerical wedding, or altum
tempus ecclesiasticum. There was dancing, but I only danced four
minuets, and was in my own room again by eleven o'clock, for, out of
fifty young ladies, there was only one who danced in time--Madlle.
Kaser, a sister of Count Perusa's secretary. The Professor thought fit
to leave me in the lurch, so I did not go to Madlle. Keiserin, because
I don't know where she lives. Last Saturday, the 4th, on the stately
and solemn occasion of the name-day of his Royal Highness the Archduke
Albert, we had a select music-party at home, which commenced at
half-past three o'clock and finished at eight. M. Dubreil, whom papa no
doubt remembers, was also present; he is a pupil of Tartini's. In the
forenoon he gave a lesson on the violin to the youngest son, Carl, and I
chanced to come in at the time, I never gave him credit for much talent,
but I saw that he took great pains in giving his lesson; and when we
entered into conversation about violin, concert, and orchestral playing,
he reasoned very well, and was always of my opinion, so I retracted my
former sentiments with regard to him, and was persuaded that I should
find him play well in time, and a correct violinist in the orchestra.
I, therefore, invited him to be so kind as to attend our little music
rehearsal that afternoon. We played, first of all, the two quintets of
Haydn, but to my dismay I could scarcely hear Dubreil, who could not
play four continuous bars without a mistake. He could never find the
positions, and he was no good friend to the sospirs [short pauses]. The
only good thing was that he spoke politely and praised the quintets;
otherwise--As it was, I said nothing to him, but he kept constantly
saying himself, "I beg your pardon, but really I am out again! the thing
is puzzling, but fine!" I invariably replied, "It does not in the least
signify; we are only among ourselves." I then played the concertos in
C, in B, and in E flat, and after that a trio of mine. This was finely
accompanied, truly! In the adagio I was obliged to play six bars of his
part. As a finale, I played my last divertimento in B; they all pricked
up their ears. I played as if I had been the greatest violin-player in
all Europe.

The Sunday after, at three o'clock, we were at a certain Herr von
Hamm's. The Bishop of Chiemsee set off to-day for Salzburg. N. B.--I
send my sister, by him, "6 duetti a clavicembalo e violino," by
Schuster. I have often played them here; they are by no means bad. If
I remain long enough, I intend to compose six in this style, for it is
much liked here.



64.

Munich, Oct. 11, 1777.

WHY have I not as yet written anything about Misliweczeck? [See No. 43.]
Because I was only too glad not to think of him; for when he is spoken
of I invariably hear how highly he praises me, and what a kind and
true friend he is of mine; but then follow pity and lamentation. He
was described to me, and deeply was I distressed. How could I bear that
Misliweczeck, my intimate friend, should be in the same town, nay, even
in the same corner of the world with me, and neither see him nor speak
to him? Impossible! so I resolved to go to visit him. On the previous
day, I called on the manager of the Duke's Hospital to ask if I might
see my friend in the garden, which I thought best, though the doctors
assured me there was no longer any risk of infection. The manager agreed
to my proposal, and said I should find him in the garden between eleven
and twelve o'clock, and, if he was not there when I came, to send for
him. Next day I went with Herr von Hamm, secretary in the Crown Office,
(of whom I shall speak presently,) and mamma to the Duke's Hospital.
Mamma went into the Hospital church, and we into the garden.
Misliweczeck was not there, so we sent him a message. I saw him coming
across, and knew him at once from his manner of walking. I must tell
you that he had already sent me his remembrances by Herr Heller, a
violoncello-player, and begged me to visit him before I left Munich.
When he came up to me, we shook hands cordially. "You see," said he,
"how unfortunate I am." These words and his appearance, which papa is
already aware of from description, so went to my heart that I could only
say, with tears in my eyes, "I pity you from my heart, my dear friend."
He saw how deeply I was affected, so rejoined quite cheerfully, "Now
tell me what you are doing; when I heard that you were in Munich, I
could scarcely believe it; how could Mozart be here and not long ago
have come to see me?" "I hope you will forgive me, but I had such a
number of visits to make, and I have so many kind friends here." "I feel
quite sure that you have indeed many kind friends, but a truer friend
than myself you cannot have." He asked me whether papa had told me
anything of a letter he had received. I said, "Yes, he did write to me,"
(I was quite confused, and trembled so much in every limb that I could
scarcely speak,) "but he gave me no details." He then told me that
Signor Gaetano Santoro, the Neapolitan impresario, was obliged, owing
to impegni and protezione, to give the composition of the opera for this
Carnival to a certain Maestro Valentini; but he added, "Next year he
has three at liberty, one of which is to be at my service. But as I
have already composed six times for Naples, I don't in the least mind
undertaking the less promising one, and making over to you the best
libretto, viz. the one for the Carnival. God knows whether I shall
be able to travel by that time, but if not, I shall send back the
scrittura. The company for next year is good, being all people whom I
have recommended. You must know that I have such influence in Naples
that, when I say engage such a one, they do so at once." Marquesi is
the primo uomo, whom he, and indeed all Munich too, praises very highly;
Marchiani is a good prima donna; and there is a tenor, whose name I
cannot recall, but Misliweczeck says he is the best in all Italy. He
also said, "I do beg of you to go to Italy; there one is esteemed and
highly prized." And in truth he is right. When I come to reflect on the
subject, in no country have I received such honors, or been so esteemed,
as in Italy, and nothing contributes more to a man's fame than to have
written Italian operas, and especially for Naples. He said he would
write a letter for me to Santoro, which I was to copy out when I went
to see him next day; but finding it impossible to return, he sent me
a sketch of the letter to-day. I was told that when Misliweczeck heard
people here speaking of Becke, or other performers on the piano, he
invariably said, "Let no one deceive himself; none can play like Mozart;
in Italy, where the greatest masters are, they speak of no one but
Mozart; when his name is mentioned, not a word is said of others." I can
now write the letter to Naples when I please; but, indeed, the sooner
the better. I should, however, first like to have the opinion of that
highly discreet Hofcapellmeister, Herr von Mozart. I have the most
ardent desire to write another opera. The distance is certainly great,
but the period is still a long way off when I am to write this opera,
and there may be many changes before then. I think I might at all events
undertake it. If, in the mean time, I get no situation, eh, bien! I
shall then have a resource in Italy. I am at all events certain to
receive 100 ducats in the Carnival; and when I have once written for
Naples I shall be sought for everywhere. As papa well knows, there is an
opera buffa in Naples in spring, summer, and autumn, for which I might
write for the sake of practice, not to be quite idle. It is true that
there is not much to be got by this, but still there is something,
and it would be the means of gaining more honor and reputation than by
giving a hundred concerts in Germany, and I am far happier when I have
something to compose, which is my chief delight and passion; and if I
get a situation anywhere, or have hopes of one, the scrittura would be
a great recommendation to me, and excite a sensation, and cause me to be
more thought of. This is mere talk, but still I say what is in my heart.
If papa gives me any good grounds to show that I am wrong, then I
will give it up, though, I own, reluctantly. Even when I hear an opera
discussed, or am in a theatre myself and hear voices, oh! I really am
beside myself!

To-morrow, mamma and I are to meet Misliweczeck in the Hospital garden
to take leave of him; for he wished me last time to fetch mamma out
of church, as he said he should like to see the mother of so great a
virtuoso. My dear papa, do write to him as often as you have time to do
so; you cannot confer a greater pleasure on him, for the man is quite
forsaken. Sometimes he sees no one for a whole week, and he said to me,
"I do assure you it does seem so strange to me to see so few people; in
Italy I had company every day." He looks thin, of course, but is still
full of fire and life and genius, and the same kind, animated person
he always was. People talk much of his oratorio of "Abraham and Isaac,"
which he produced here. He has just completed (with the exception of
a few arias) a Cantata, or Serenata, for Lent; and when he was at the
worst he wrote an opera for Padua. Herr Heller is just come from him.
When I wrote to him yesterday I sent him the Serenata that I wrote in
Salzburg: for the Archduke Maximilian ["Il Re Pastore"].

Now to turn to something else. Yesterday I went with mamma immediately
after dinner to take coffee with the two Fraulein von Freysinger. Mamma,
however, took none, but drank two bottles of Tyrolese wine. At three
o'clock she went home again to make preparations for our journey. I,
however, went with the two ladies to Herr von Hamm's, whose three young
ladies each played a concerto, and I one of Aichner's prima vista, and
then went on extemporizing. The teacher of these little simpletons,
the Demoiselles Hamm, is a certain clerical gentleman of the name of
Schreier. He is a good organ-player, but no pianist. He kept staring
at me with an eye-glass. He is a reserved kind of man who does not talk
much; he patted me on the shoulder, sighed, and said, "Yes--you are--you
understand--yes--it is true--you are an out-and-outer!" By the by, can
you recall the name of Freysingen--the papa of the two pretty girls I
mentioned? He says he knows you well, and that he studied with you. He
particularly remembers Messenbrunn, where papa (this was quite new
to me) played most incomparably on the organ. He said, "It was quite
startling to see the pace at which both hands and feet went, but quite
inimitable; a thorough master indeed; my father thought a great deal of
him; and how he humbugged the priests about entering the Church! You are
just what he was then, as like as possible; only he was a degree shorter
when I knew him." A propos, a certain Hofrath Effeln sends you his kind
regards; he is one of the best Hofraths here, and would long ago have
been made chancellor but for one defect--TIPPLING. When we saw him
for the first time at Albert's, both mamma and I thought, "What an
odd-looking fish!" Just imagine a very tall man, stout and corpulent,
and a ridiculous face. When he crosses the room to another table, he
folds both hands on his stomach, stoops very low, and then draws himself
up again, and makes little nods; and when this is over he draws back his
right foot, and does this to each individual separately. He says that
he knows papa intimately. I am now going for a little to the play. Next
time I will write more fully, but I can't possibly go on to-day, for my
fingers do ache uncommonly.

Munich, October 11th, at 1/4 to 12 at night, I write as follows:--I
have been at the Drittl comedy, but only went in time for the ballet, or
rather the pantomime, which I had not before seen. It is called "Das von
der fur Girigaricanarimanarischaribari verfertigte Ei." It was very good
and funny. We are going to-morrow to Augsburg on account of Prince Taxis
not being at Ratisbon but at Teschingen. He is, in fact, at present at
his country-seat, which is, however, only an hour from Teschingen. I
send my sister, with this, four preludes; she will see and hear for
herself the different keys into which they lead. My compliments to all
my kind friends, particularly to young Count Arco, to Madlle. Sallerl,
and to my best of all friends, Herr Bullinger; I do beg that next Sunday
at the usual eleven-o'clock music he will be so good as to make an
authoritative oration in my name, and present my regards to all the
members of the orchestra and exhort them to industry, that I may not one
day be accused of being a humbug, for I have everywhere extolled their
orchestra, and I intend always to do so.



65.

Augsburg, Oct. 14, 1777.

I HAVE made no mistake in my date, for I write before dinner, and I
think that next Friday, the day after to-morrow, we shall be off again.
Pray hear how generous the gentlemen of Augsburg are. In no place was
I ever so overwhelmed with marks of distinction as here. My first visit
was to the Stadtpfleger Longo Tabarro [Burgomaster Langenmantl].
My cousin, [Footnote: Leopold Mozart had a brother in Augsburg, a
bookbinder, whose daughter, "das Basle" (the cousin), was two years
younger than Mozart.] a good, kind, honest man and worthy citizen, went
with me, and had the honor to wait in the hall like a footman till my
interview with the high and mighty Stadtpfleger was over. I did not
fail first of all to present papa's respectful compliments. He deigned
graciously to remember you, and said, "And pray how have things gone
with him?" "Vastly well, God be praised!" I instantly rejoined, "and I
hope things have also gone well with you?" He then became more civil,
and addressed me in the third person, so I called him "Sir"; though,
indeed, I had done so from the first. He gave me no peace till I went
up with him to see his son-in-law (on the second floor), my cousin
meanwhile having the pleasure of waiting in the staircase-hall. I was
obliged to control myself with all my might, or I must have given some
polite hint about this. On going upstairs I had the satisfaction of
playing for nearly three-quarters of an hour on a good clavichord
of Stein's, in the presence of the stuck-up young son, and his prim
condescending wife, and the simple old lady. I first extemporized, and
then played all the music he had, prima, vista, and among others some
very pretty pieces of Edlmann's. Nothing could be more polite than they
all were, and I was equally so, for my rule is to behave to people just
as they behave to me; I find this to be the best plan. I said that I
meant to go to Stein's after dinner, so the young man offered to take me
there himself. I thanked him for his kindness, and promised to return
at two o'clock. I did so, and we went together in company with his
brother-in-law, who looks a genuine student. Although I had begged that
my name should not be mentioned, Herr von Langenmantl was so incautious
as to say, with a simper, to Herr Stein, "I have the honor to present to
you a virtuoso on the piano." I instantly protested against this, saying
that I was only an indifferent pupil of Herr Sigl in Munich, who had
charged me with a thousand compliments to him. Stein shook his head
dubiously, and at length said, "Surely I have the honor of seeing M.
Mozart?" "Oh, no," said I; "my name is Trazom, and I have a letter for
you." He took the letter and was about to break the seal instantly, but
I gave him no time for that, saying, "What is the use of reading the
letter just now? Pray open the door of your saloon at once, for I am
so very anxious to see your pianofortes." "With all my heart," said he,
"just as you please; but for all that I believe I am not mistaken." He
opened the door, and I ran straight up to one of the three pianos that
stood in the room. I began to play, and he scarcely gave himself time
to glance at the letter, so anxious was he to ascertain the truth; so
he only read the signature. "Oh!" cried he, embracing me, and crossing
himself and making all sorts of grimaces from intense delight. I
will write to you another day about his pianos. He then took me to a
coffee-house, but when we went in I really thought I must bolt, there
was such a stench of tobacco-smoke, but for all that I was obliged to
bear it for a good hour. I submitted to it all with a good grace, though
I could have fancied that I was in Turkey. He made a great fuss to me
about a certain Graf, a composer (of flute concertos only); and
said, "He is something quite extraordinary," and every other possible
exaggeration. I became first hot and then cold from nervousness. This
Graf is a brother of the two who are in Harz and Zurich. He would
not give up his intention, but took me straight to him--a dignified
gentleman indeed; he wore a dressing-gown that I would not be ashamed to
wear in the street. All his words are on stilts, and he has a habit of
opening his mouth before knowing what he is going to say; so he often
shuts it again without having said anything. After a great deal of
ceremony he produced a concerto for two flutes; I was to play first
violin. The concerto is confused, not natural, too abrupt in its
modulations, and devoid of all genius. When it was over I praised it
highly, for, indeed, he deserves this. The poor man must have had labor
and study enough to write it. At last they brought a clavichord of
Stein's out of the next room, a very good one, but inch-thick with dust.
Herr Graf, who is director here, stood there looking like a man who had
hitherto believed his own modulations to be something very clever, but
all at once discovers that others may be still more so, and without
grating on the ear. In a word, they all seemed lost in astonishment.



66.

Augsburg, Oct. 17, 1777.

WITH regard to the daughter of Hamm, the Secretary of War, I can only
say that there can be no doubt she has a decided talent for music, for
she has only learned three years, and can play a number of pieces very
well. I find it difficult, however, to explain distinctly the impression
she makes on me while she is playing; she seems to me so curiously
constrained, and she has such an odd way of stalking over the keys with
her long bony fingers! To be sure, she has had no really good master,
and if she remains in Munich she will never become what her father
wishes and hopes, for he is eager beyond measure that she should one day
be a distinguished pianiste. If she goes to papa at Salzburg, it will
be a twofold benefit to her, both as to music and common sense, of which
she certainly has no great share. She has often made me laugh very much,
and you would have amusement enough for your trouble. She is too absent
to think of eating much. You say I ought to have practised with her? I
really could not for laughing, for when I occasionally played something
with the right hand, she instantly said bravissimo, and that in the
voice of a little mouse.

I will now relate to you as briefly as possible the Augsburg history
to which I have already alluded. Herr von Fingerle, who sent his
compliments to you, was also at Herr Graf's. The people were very civil,
and discussed the concert I proposed to give, all saying, "It will be
one of the most brilliant concerts ever given in Augsburg. You have
a great advantage in having made the acquaintance of our Stadtpfleger
Langenmantl; besides, the name of Mozart has much influence here." So
we separated mutually pleased. I must now tell you that Herr von
Langenmantl, junior, when at Herr Stein's, said that he would pledge
himself to arrange a concert in the Stube, [Footnote: The Bauernstube,
the Patrician Casino.] (as something very select, and complimentary to
me,) for the nobility alone. You can't think with what zeal he spoke,
and promised to undertake it. We agreed that I should call on him the
next morning for the answer; accordingly I went; this was on the 13th.
He was very polite, but said that as yet he could not say anything
decided. I played there again for an hour, and he invited me next day,
the 14th, to dinner. In the forenoon he sent to beg that I would come
to him at eleven o'clock, and bring some pieces with me, as he had
asked some of the professional musicians, and they intended to have some
music. I immediately sent some music, and went myself at eleven, when,
with many lame excuses, he coolly said, "By the by, I could do nothing
about the concert; oh, I was in such a rage yesterday on your account.
The patrician members of the Casino said that their cashbox was at
a very low ebb, and that you were not the kind of virtuoso who could
expect a souverain d'or." I merely smiled, and said, "I quite agree with
them." N. B.--He is Intendant of Music in the Casino, and the old father
a magistrate! but I cared very little about it. We sat down to dinner;
the old gentleman also dined up-stairs with us, and was very civil,
but did not say a word about the concert. After dinner I played two
concertos, something out of my head, and then a trio of Hafeneder's
on the violin. I would gladly have played more, but I was so badly
accompanied that it gave me the colic. He said to me, good-naturedly,
"Don't let us part company to-day; go to the play with us, and return
here to supper." We were all very merry. When we came back from the
theatre, I played again till we went to supper. Young Langenmantl had
already questioned me in the forenoon about my cross, [Footnote: Mozart,
by his father's desire, wore the "Order of the Golden Spur," conferred
on him by the Pope.] and I told him exactly how I got it, and what it
was. He and his brother-in-law said over and over again, "Let us order a
cross, too, that we may be on a par with Herr Mozart." I took no notice
of this. They also repeatedly said, "Hallo! you sir! Knight of the
Spur!" I said not a word; but during supper it became really too bad.
"What may it have cost? three ducats? must you have permission to wear
it? Do you pay extra for leave to do so? We really must get one just
like it." An officer there of the name of Bach, said, "For shame! what
would you do with the cross?" That young ass, Kurzen Mantl, winked at
him, but I saw him, and he knew that I did. A pause ensued, and then he
offered me snuff, saying, "There, show that you don't care a pinch of
snuff for it." I still said nothing. At length he began once more in
a sneering tone: "I may then send to you to-morrow, and you will be so
good as to lend me the cross for a few minutes, and I will return it
immediately after I have spoken to the goldsmith about it. I know that
when I ask him its value (for he is a queer kind of man) he will say
a Bavarian thaler; it can't be worth more, for it is not gold, only
copper, ha! ha!" I said, "By no means--it is lead, ha! ha!" I was
burning with anger and rage. "I say," rejoined he, "I suppose I may,
if need be, leave out the spur?" "Oh, yes," said I, "for you have one
already in your head; I, too, have one in mine, but of a very different
kind, and I should be sorry to exchange mine for yours; so there, take
a pinch of snuff on that!" and I offered him snuff. He became pale with
rage, but began again: "Just now that order looked so well on that grand
waistcoat of yours." I made no reply, so he called the servant and said
"Hallo! you must have greater respect for my brother-in-law and myself
when we wear the same cross as Herr Mozart; take a pinch of snuff on
that!" I started up; all did the same, and showed great embarrassment.
I took my hat and my sword, and said, "I hope to have the pleasure of
seeing you to-morrow." "To-morrow I shall not be here." "Well, then,
the next morning, when I shall still be here." "Ho, ho! you surely don't
mean to"--"I mean nothing; you are a set of boors, so good-night," and
off I went.

Next day I told the whole story to Herr Stein, Herr Geniaulx, and
to Herr Director Graf--I don't mean about the cross, but how highly
disgusted I was at their having bragged so much about a concert, and
now it had come to nothing. "I call this making a fool of a person and
leaving him in the lurch. I am very sorry that I ever came here. I could
not possibly have believed that in Augsburg, my papa's native town, such
an insult could have been offered to his son." You cannot imagine, dear
papa, how angry and indignant these three gentlemen were, saying, "Oh,
you must positively give a concert here; we don't stand in need of
the patricians." I, however, adhered to my resolution and said, "I am
willing to give a small farewell concert at Herr Stein's, for my
few kind friends here who are connoisseurs." The Director was quite
distressed, and exclaimed, "It is abominable--shameful; who could have
believed such a thing of Langenmantl! Par Dieu! if he really wished it,
no doubt it would have been carried through." We then separated. The
Director went down-stairs with me in his dressing-gown as far as the
door, and Herr Stein and Geniaulx walked home with me. They urged us to
make up our mind to stay here for a time, but we remained firm. I must
not forget to say that, when young Langenmantl lisped out to me, in
his usual cool indifferent way, the pleasant news as to my concert, he
added, that the patricians invited me to their concert next Thursday. I
said, "I will come as one of the audience." "Oh, we hope you will give
us the pleasure of hearing you play also." "Well, perhaps I may; why
not?" But having received so grievous an insult the next evening, I
resolved not to go near him again, to steer clear of the whole set of
patricians, and to leave Augsburg. During dinner, on the 16th, I was
called out by a servant-maid of Langenmantl's, who wished to know
whether he might expect me to go with him to the concert? and he begged
I would come to him immediately after dinner. I sent my compliments in
return, that I had no intention of going to the concert; nor could I
come to him, as I was already engaged (which was quite true); but that
I would call next morning to take leave of him, as on Saturday next, at
furthest, I was to leave Augsburg. In the meantime Herr Stein had been
to see the other patricians of the Evangelical party, and spoke so
strongly to them that these gentlemen were quite excited. "What!" said
they, "shall we permit a man who does us so much honor to leave this
without even hearing him? Herr von Langenmantl, having already heard
him, thinks that is enough."

At last they became so excited that Herr Kurzenmantl, the excellent
youth, was obliged to go to Herr Stein himself to entreat him, in the
name of the patricians, to do all in his power to persuade me to attend
the concert, but to say that I must not expect great things. At last
I went with him, though with considerable reluctance. The principal
gentlemen were very polite, particularly Baron Belling, who is a
director or some such animal; he opened my music-portfolio himself. I
brought a symphony with me, which they played, and I took a violin part.
The orchestra is enough to throw any one into fits. That young puppy
Langenmantl was all courtesy, but his face looked as impertinent as
ever; he said to me, "I was rather afraid you might have escaped us,
or been offended by our jokes the other evening." "By no means," said I
coolly; "you are still very young; but I advise you to be more cautious
in future, for I am not accustomed to such jokes. The subject on which
you were so facetious did you no credit, nor did it answer your purpose,
for you see I still wear the order; you had better have chosen some
other topic for your wit." "I assure you," said he, "it was only my
brother-in-law who"--"Let us say no more about it," said I. "We had
nearly been deprived of the pleasure of seeing you altogether," he
rejoined. "Yes; had it not been for Herr Stein, I certainly should not
have come; and, to tell you the truth, I am only here now to prevent you
Augsburg gentlemen being the laughing-stock of other countries, which
would have been the case if I had told them that I was eight days in the
city where my father was born, without any one there taking the trouble
to hear me!" I played a concerto, and all went off well except the
accompaniment; and as a finale I played a sonata. At the close, Baron
Belling thanked me in the warmest manner in the name of all the company;
and, begging me to consider only their good will, presented me with two
ducats.

They give me no peace here till I agree to give a public concert next
Saturday. Perhaps--but I own I am heartily sick of it all. I shall be
indeed glad when I arrive at a place where there is a court. I may with
truth say that, were it not for my kind cousins, my regrets would be as
numberless as the hairs on my head for ever having come to Augsburg. I
must write you some account of my fair cousin, but you must excuse my
deferring this till to-morrow, for one ought to be quite fresh to praise
her as highly as she deserves.

The 17th.--I now write early in the morning to say that my cousin is
pretty, intelligent, lovable, clever, and gay, probably because she
has lived so much in society; she was also some time at Munich. We do,
indeed, exactly suit each other, for she too is rather inclined to be
satirical, so we banter our friends most merrily together. [The Mozart
family were both well known and dreaded for their somewhat sharp
tongues.]



67.

Augsburg, Oct. 17, 1777.

I must now tell you about the Stein pianos. Before seeing these, Spath's
pianos were my favorites; but I must own that I give the preference to
those of Stein, for they damp much better than those in Ratisbon. If I
strike hard, whether I let my fingers rest on the notes or lift them,
the tone dies away at the same instant that it is heard. Strike the
keys as I choose, the tone always remains even, never either jarring or
failing to sound. It is true that a piano of this kind is not to be had
for less than three hundred florins, but the pains and skill which Stein
bestows on them cannot be sufficiently repaid. His instruments have a
feature of their own; they are supplied with a peculiar escapement.
Not one in a hundred makers attends to this; but, without it, it is
impossible that a piano should not buzz and jar. His hammers fall as
soon as they touch the strings, whether the keys be held down by the
fingers or not. When he has completed an instrument of this class,
(which he told me himself,) he tries all kinds of passages and runs on
it, and works away at it, testing its powers till it is capable of doing
anything, for he labors not for his own benefit alone, (or he might be
saved much trouble,) but for that of music. He often says, "If I were
not such a passionate lover of music, playing also myself a little on
the piano, I should long ago have lost patience with my work, but I like
my instruments to respond to the player, and to be durable." His pianos
do really last well. He warrants the sounding-board neither breaking nor
cracking; when he has finished one, he exposes it in the air to rain,
snow, sun, and every kind of devilry, that it may give way, and then
inserts slips of wood which he glues in, making it quite strong and
solid. He is very glad when it does crack, for then he is pretty sure
nothing further can happen to it. He frequently makes cuts into them
himself, and then glues them up, thus making them doubly strong. He
has three of these pianos at this moment finished, and I played on them
again to-day.

We dined to-day with young Herr Gassner, who is the handsome widower
of a lovely young wife; they were only married two years. He is an
excellent and kind young man; he gave us a capital dinner. A colleague
of the Abbe Henri Bullinger, and Wishofer also dined there, and an
ex-Jesuit, who is at present Capellmeister in the cathedral here. He
knows Herr Schachtner well [court-trumpeter at Salzburg], and was leader
of his band in Ingolstadt; he is called Father Gerbl. Herr Gassner, and
one of his wife's unmarried sisters, mamma, our cousin, and I went after
dinner to Herr Stein's. At four o'clock came the Capellmeister and
Herr Schmittbauer, the organist of St. Ulrich, a worthy good old man.
I played at sight a sonata of Becke's, which was rather difficult, but
very poor, al solito. The astonishment of the Capellmeister and the
organist was indescribable. I have played my six sonatas by heart
repeatedly, both here and in Munich. The fifth in G, I played at
the distinguished Casino concert, and the last in D, which has an
incomparable effect on Stein's pianos. The pedals, pressed by the knees,
are also better made by him than by any one else; you scarcely require
to touch them to make them act, and as soon as the pressure is removed
not the slightest vibration is perceptible.

To-morrow perhaps I shall come to his organs, that is, write to you
about them, and I reserve for the last the subject of his little
daughter. When I said to Herr Stein that I should like to play on one of
his organs, as the organ was my passion, he seemed surprised, and
said, "What! such a man as you, so great a pianist, like to play on an
instrument devoid of sweetness and expression, with no gradations from
piano to forte, but always going on the same?" "That does not signify;
the organ always was, both in my eyes and ears, the king of all
instruments." "Well, just as you please." So we went together. I could
readily perceive from his conversation that he did not expect me to do
great things on his organ, evidently thinking that I should handle it
in the style of a piano. He told me that by Schobert's own desire he
had taken him also to the organ, "and very nervous it made me," said he,
"for Schobert had told everybody, and the church was nearly full. I did
not doubt the man's spirit, fire, and execution; still, this does not
much suit the organ. But the moment he began my opinion was entirely
changed." I only said in reply, "Do you then think, Herr Stein, that
I am likely to run wild on the organ?" "Oh! you!"--When we came to the
organ-loft, I began a prelude, when he laughed. A fugue followed. "I can
now quite understand why you like to play the organ," said he, "when you
can play in this manner." At first the pedal was a little awkward for
me, as it was without the breaks, beginning with C, then D E in one row,
whereas with us D and E are above, just where E flat and F sharp are
here; but I quickly mastered it.

I went also to try the old organ at St. Ulrich's. The stair that leads
to it is really dreadful. I requested that some other person might play
the organ for me, that I might go down and listen to it, for above the
organ has no effect; but I profited very little by this, for the young
leader of the choir, a priest, made such reckless runs on the organ that
it was impossible to understand them, and when he attempted harmonies
they proved only discords, being always false. Afterwards they would
insist on our going to a coffee-room, for mamma and my cousin were with
us. A certain Father Emilian, a conceited jackass and a sorry witling,
was very sweet on my cousin, and wished to have his jest with her,
but she made a jest of him. At last, when rather tipsy, (which soon
occurred,) he began to talk about music, and sang a canon, saying, "I
never in my life heard anything finer." I said, "I regret that I can't
sing it with you, for nature has not given me the power of intoning."
"No matter," said he. So he began. I made the third, but I sang
different words--thus: "Pater Emilian, oh! thou numskull"--sotto voce to
my cousin; then we laughed on for at least half an hour. The Pater said
to me, "If we only could be longer together, we could discuss the art of
musical composition." "In that case," said I, "our discussion would soon
come to an end." A famous rap on the knuckles for him! TO BE CONTINUED.



68.

Augsburg, Oct. 23, 1777.

MY concert took place yesterday. Count Wolfeck interested himself much
in it, and brought some chanoinesses with him. I went to his lodgings
the very day I arrived, but he was not here at that time. A few days
ago he returned, and on hearing that I was still in Augsburg, he did not
wait for a visit from me, but at the very moment when I was taking my
hat and sword to go to call on him he walked in. I must now give you a
description of the last few days before my concert. Last Saturday I was
at St. Ulrich's, as I already told you. Some days before my cousin
took me with him to present me to the Prelate of the Holy Cross, a kind
excellent old man. Previous to going to St. Ulrich's last Saturday, I
went with my cousin to the Monastery of the Holy Cross, as the first
time I was there neither the Deacon nor the Procurator was at home,
and my cousin told me that the Procurator was very jolly. [Here mamma
inserts a few lines--which frequently occurs in the letters. She says at
the close:] "I am quite surprised that Schuster's duets [see No. 63] are
still"--Wolfgang: "Oh, he has got them." Mamma: "No, indeed; he always
writes that he has not got them." Wolfgang: "I hate arguing; I am sure
he has got them, so there's an end of it." Mamma: "You are mistaken."
Wolfgang: "No; I am right. I will show it to mamma in his own writing."
Mamma: "Well, where is it?" Wolfgang: "Here; read it." She is reading it
at this moment.

Last Sunday I attended service at the Holy Cross, and at ten o'clock we
went to Herr Stein's, where we tried over a couple of symphonies for the
concert. Afterwards I dined with my cousin at the Holy Cross, where a
band played during dinner. Badly as they play in the monastery, I prefer
it to the Augsburg orchestra. I played a symphony, and a concerto in
B of Vanhall's, on the violin, with unanimous applause. The Dean is
a kind, jovial man, a cousin of Eberlin [deceased Capellmeister of
Salzburg]. His name is Zeschinger. He knows papa well. At night, after
supper, I played the Strassburg concerto; it went as smooth as oil;
every one praised the fine pure tone. A small clavichord was then
brought in, on which I preluded, and played a sonata and the Fischer
variations. Some of those present whispered to the Dean that he ought to
hear me play in the organ style. I asked him to give me a theme, which
he declined, but one of the monks did so. I handled it quite leisurely,
and all at once (the fugue being in G minor) I brought in a lively
movement in the major key, but in the same tempo, and then at the end
the original subject, only reversed. At last it occurred to me to
employ the lively movement for the subject of the fugue also, I did not
hesitate long, but did so at once, and it went as accurately as if Daser
[a Salzburg tailor] had taken its measure. The Dean was in a state of
great excitement. "It is over," said he, "and it's no use talking about
it, but I could scarcely have believed what I have just heard; you are
indeed an able man. My prelate told me beforehand that in his life he
never heard any one play the organ in a more finished and solid style"
(he having heard me some days previously when the Dean was not here). At
last some one brought me a fugued sonata, and asked me to play it. But I
said, "Gentlemen, I really must say this is asking rather too much,
for it is not likely I shall be able to play such a sonata at sight."
"Indeed, I think so too; it is too much; no one could do it," said the
Dean eagerly, being all in my favor. "At all events," said I, "I can but
try." I heard the Dean muttering all the time behind me, "Oh, you rogue!
oh, you knave!" I played till 11 o'clock, bombarded and besieged, as it
were, by fugue themes.

Lately, at Stein's, he brought me a sonata of Becke's, but I think
I already told you this. A propos, as to his little girl, [Footnote:
Nanette, at that time eight years old; afterwards the admirable wife
of Andreas Streicher, the friend of Schiller's youth, and one of
Beethoven's best friends in Vienna.] any one who can see and hear her
play without laughing must be Stein [stone] like her father. She perches
herself exactly opposite the treble, avoiding the centre, that she may
have more room to throw herself about and make grimaces. She rolls her
eyes and smirks; when a passage comes twice she always plays it slower
the second time, and if three times, slower still. She raises her arms
in playing a passage, and if it is to be played with emphasis she seems
to give it with her elbows and not her fingers, as awkwardly and heavily
as possible. The finest thing is, that if a passage occurs (which ought
to flow like oil) where the fingers must necessarily be changed, she
does not pay much heed to that, but lifts her hands, and quite coolly
goes on again. This, moreover, puts her in a fair way to get hold of a
wrong note, which often produces a curious effect. I only write this in
order to give you some idea of pianoforte-playing and teaching here, so
that you may in turn derive some benefit from it. Herr Stein is quite
infatuated about his daughter. She is eight years old, and learns
everything by heart. She may one day be clever, for she has genius, but
on this system she will never improve, nor will she ever acquire much
velocity of finger, for her present method is sure to make her hand
heavy. She will never master what is the most difficult and necessary,
and in fact the principal thing in music, namely, time; because from her
infancy she has never been in the habit of playing in correct time.
Herr Stein and I discussed this point together for at least two hours.
I have, however, in some degree converted him; he asks my advice now on
every subject. He was quite devoted to Becke, and now he sees and hears
that I can do more than Becke, that I make no grimaces, and yet play
with so much expression that he himself acknowledges none of his
acquaintances have ever handled his pianos as I do. My keeping so
accurately in time causes them all much surprise. The left hand being
quite independent in the tempo rubato of an adagio, they cannot at all
comprehend. With them the left hand always yields to the right. Count
Wolfeck and others, who have a passionate admiration for Becke, said
lately publicly in a concert that I beat Becke hollow. Count Wolfeck
went round the room saying, "In my life I never heard anything like
this." He said to me, "I must tell you that I never heard you play as
you did to-day, and I mean to say so to your father as soon as I go to
Salzburg." What do you think was the first piece after the symphony?
The concerto for three pianos. Herr Demmler took the first part, I the
second, and Herr Stein the third. I then played a solo, my last sonata
in D, for Durnitz, and afterwards my concerto in B; then again a solo
in the organ style, namely, a fugue in C minor, then all of a sudden a
splendid sonata in C major, finishing with a rondo, all extempore. What
a noise and commotion there was! Herr Stein did nothing but make faces
and grimaces of astonishment. Herr Demmler was seized with fits of
laughter, for he is a queer creature, and when anything pleases him
exceedingly, he can't help laughing heartily; indeed, on this occasion
he actually began to swear! Addio!



69.

Augsburg, Oct. 25, 1777.

The receipts of the concert were 90 florins, without deducting the
expenses. Including, therefore, the two ducats we took in the Casino
concert, we had 100 florins. The expenses of the concert did not exceed
16 florins 30 kreutzers; the room I had gratis. I believe most of the
musicians will make no charge. We have now ALTOGETHER lost about 26 or
27 florins. This is not of much moment. I am writing this on Saturday
the 25th. This morning early I received the letter with the sad news of
Frau Oberbereiterin's death. Madlle. Tonerl can now purse up her mouth,
or perhaps open it wide, and shut it again as empty as ever. As to the
baker's daughter, I have no objection to make; I foresaw all this long
ago. This was the cause of my reluctance to leave home, and finding it
so difficult to go. I hope the affair is not by this time known all over
Salzburg? I beg you, dear papa, most urgently to keep the matter quiet
as long as possible, and in the mean time to pay her father on my
account any expenses he may have incurred by her entrance into the
convent, which I will repay gladly when I return to Salzburg.

I thank you most truly, dear papa, for your good wishes on my name-day.
Do not be uneasy on my account, for I have always God before my eyes,
I acknowledge His omnipotence, I dread His wrath; but I also know His
love, His compassion and mercy towards His creatures, and that He will
never forsake His servants. When His will is done I am resigned; so I
never can fail to be happy and contented. I shall certainly also strive
to live as strictly as possible in accordance with your injunctions and
advice. Thank Herr Bullinger a thousand times for his congratulations.
I mean to write to him soon and thank him myself, but I may in the mean
time assure him that I neither know nor have any better, more sincere,
or truer friend than himself. I beg also humbly to thank Madlle.
Sallerl; pray tell her I mean to enclose some verses to show my
gratitude to her in my letter to Herr Bullinger. Thank my sister also;
she is to keep the Schuster duets, and give herself no further trouble
on the subject.


In your first letter, dear papa, you write that I lowered myself by
my conduct to that lad Langenmantl. Anything but that! I was only
straightforward, no more. I see you think he is still a boy; he is one
or two and twenty, and a married man. Can any one be considered a boy
who is married? I have never gone near him since. I left two cards
for him to-day, and excused myself for not going in, having so many
indispensable calls to make. I must now conclude, for mamma insists
absolument on going to dinner, and then to pack. To-morrow we go
straight to Wallerstein. My dear little cousin, who sends you her
regards, is anything but a prude. She dressed a la Francaise to please
me yesterday. She looked at least 5 per cent, prettier in consequence.
Now, Addio!

On the 26th of October the mother and son set off to Mannheim. The
mother writes that Wolfgang intended to write to Augsburg, "but he will
scarcely be able to do so to-day, for he is now at the rehearsal of the
oratorio; so I must beg you to accept my humble self instead." Wolfgang
then adds:--



70.

Mannheim, Oct. 30, 1777.

I must beg you also to accept my insignificancy. I went to-day with Herr
Danner to M. Cannabich's [Director of the Elector's orchestra]. He was
uncommonly polite, and I played something for him on his piano, which
is a very good one. We went together to the rehearsal. I could scarcely
help laughing when I was presented to the musicians, because, though
some who knew me by renomme were very civil and courteous, the rest,
who knew nothing whatever about me, stared in such a ludicrous way,
evidently thinking that because I am little and young nothing great
or mature is to be found in me; but they shall soon find it out.
Herr Cannabich is to take me himself to-morrow to Count Savioli, the
Intendant of Music. One good thing is that the Elector's name-day is
close at hand. The oratorio they are rehearsing is Handel's, but I did
not stay to hear it, for they first rehearsed a Psalm Magnificat of the
Vice-Capellmeister here, [Abbe] Vogler, which lasted a good hour. I must
now conclude, for I have still to write to my cousin.



71.

Mannheim, Nov. 4, 1777.

I am at Cannabich's every day, and mamma went with me there to-day. He
is a very different man from what he formerly was, [FOOTNOTE: Mozart had
been at his house, when a boy, with his father.] and the whole orchestra
say the same. He is very fond of me. He has a daughter who plays the
piano very nicely, and in order to make him still more friendly towards
me I am working just now at a sonata for her, which is finished all but
the Rondo. When I had completed the first allegro and andante, I took
it to him myself and played it over; you can't think what applause this
sonata receives. There chanced to be some of the musicians there at
the moment--young Danner, Lang, who plays the French horn, and the
hautboy-player, whose name I forget, but who plays remarkably well, and
has a pleasing delicate tone [Ramm]. I made him a present of a concerto
for the hautboy; it is being copied in Cannabich's room. The man is
wild with delight. I played him the concerto to-day at Cannabich's, and
THOUGH KNOWN TO BE MINE it pleased very much. No one said that it was
NOT WELL COMPOSED, because people here don't understand these things.
They ought to apply to the Archbishop; he would soon put them on the
right scent. [FOOTNOTE: The Archbishop never was satisfied with any of
the compositions that Mozart wrote for his concerts, but invariably had
some fault to find with them.] I played all my six sonatas to-day at
Cannabich's. Herr Kapellmeister Holzbauer went with me to-day to Count
Savioli's. Cannabich was there at the time. Herr Holzbauer said to the
Count in Italian that I wished to have the honor of playing before his
Serene Highness the Elector. "I was here fifteen years ago," said
I, "but now I am older and more advanced, and I may say in music
also"--"Oh!" said the Count, "you are"--I have no idea whom he took
me for, as Cannabich interrupted him, but I affected not to hear, and
entered into conversation with the others. Still I observed that he was
speaking of me very earnestly. The Count then said to me, "I hear that
you play the piano very tolerably?" I bowed.

I must now tell you about the music here. On Saturday, All-Saints' day,
I attended high mass. The orchestra is very good and numerous. On each
side ten or eleven violins, four tenors, two hautboys, two flutes, and
two clarionets, two corni, four violoncellos, four bassoons, and four
double basses, besides trumpets and kettle-drums. This should give fine
music, but I would not venture to produce one of my masses here. Why?
From their being short? No, everything is liked short. From their church
style? By no means; but solely because NOW in Mannheim, under present
circumstances, it is necessary to write chiefly for the instruments,
for nothing can possibly be conceived worse than the voices here. Six
soprani, six alti, six tenori, and six bassi, to twenty violins and
twelve bassi, are in the same proportion as 0 to 1. Is it not so,
Herr Bullinger? It proceeds from this:--The Italians are miserably
represented: they have only two musici here, and they are already old.
This race is dying out. These soprano singers, too, would prefer singing
counter-tenor; for they can no longer take the high notes. The few boys
they have are wretched. The tenor and bass just like our singers
at funerals. Vogler, who lately conducted the mass, is barren and
frivolous--a man who imagines he can do a great deal, and does very
little. The whole orchestra dislike him. To-day, Sunday, I heard a mass
of Holzbauer's, which is now twenty-six years old, but excellent. He
writes very well, and has a good church style, arranges the vocal parts
as well as the instrumental, and writes good fugues. They have two
organists here; it would be worth while to come to Mannheim on purpose
to hear them--which I had a famous opportunity of doing, as it is the
custom here for the organist to play during the whole of the Benedictus.
I heard the second organist first, and then the other. In my opinion the
second is preferable to the first; for when I heard the former, I asked,
"Who is that playing on the organ?" "Our second organist." "He plays
miserably." When the other began, I said, "Who may that be?" "Our first
organist." "Why, he plays more miserably still." I believe if they were
pounded together, something even worse would be the result. It is enough
to kill one with laughing to look at these gentlemen. The second at
the organ is like a child trying to lift a millstone. You can see his
anguish in his face. The first wears spectacles. I stood beside him at
the organ and watched him with the intention of learning something from
him; at each note he lifts his hands entirely off the keys. What he
believes to be his forte is to play in six parts, but he mostly makes
fifths and octaves. He often chooses to dispense altogether with his
right hand when there is not the slightest need to do so, and plays with
the left alone; in short, he fancies that he can do as he will, and that
he is a thorough master of his organ.

Mamma sends her love to you all; she cannot possibly write, for she has
still to say her officium. We came home very late from the grand opera
rehearsal. I must go to-morrow after high mass to the illustrious
Electress; she is resolved absolument to teach me to knit filee. I am
very eager about this, as she and the Elector wish that I should knit in
public next Thursday at the great gala concert. The young Princess here,
who is a child compared with the Electress, knits very prettily.
The Zweenbruck and his Zwobrucken (Deux Ponts) arrived here at eight
o'clock. A propos, mamma and I earnestly beg you, dear papa, to send
our charming cousin a souvenir; we both regretted so much having nothing
with us, but we promised to write to you to send her something. We wish
two things to be sent--a double neckerchief in mamma's name, like the
one she wears, and in mine some ornament; a box, or etui, or anything
you like, only it must be pretty, for she deserves it. [FOOTNOTE: The
father was still in possession of many of the ornaments and jewels
presented to these children during their artistic tours.] She and her
father took a great deal of trouble on our account, and wasted much time
on us. My cousin took the receipts for me at my concert. Addio!



72.

Mannheim, Nov. 5, 1777.

My dear Coz--Buzz,--

I have safely received your precious epistle--thistle, and from it
I perceive--achieve, that my aunt--gaunt, and you--shoe, are quite
well--bell. I have to-day a letter--setter, from my papa--ah-ha, safe in
my hands--sands. I hope you also got--trot, my Mannheim letter--setter.
Now for a little sense--pence. The prelate's seizure--leisure, grieves
me much--touch, but he will, I hope, get well--sell. You write--blight,
you will keep--cheap, your promise to write to me--he-he, to Augsburg
soon--spoon. Well, I shall be very glad--mad. You further write, indeed
you declare, you pretend, you hint, you vow, you explain, you distinctly
say, you long, you wish, you desire, you choose, command, and point
out, you let me know and inform me that I must send you my portrait
soon--moon. Eh, bien! you shall have it before long--song. Now I wish
you good night--tight.

The 5th.--Yesterday I conversed with the illustrious Electress; and
to-morrow, the 6th, I am to play in the gala concert, and afterwards, by
desire of the Princess, in their private apartments. Now for something
rational! I beg of you--why not?--I beg of you, my very dear cousin--why
not?--when you write to Madame Tavernier in Munich, to convey a message
from me to the two Demoiselles Freysinger--why not? odd enough! but why
not?--and I humbly ask pardon of Madlle. Josepha--I mean the youngest,
and pray why not? why should I not ask her pardon? strange! but I don't
know why I should not, so I do ask her pardon very humbly--for not
having yet sent the sonata I promised her, but I mean to do so as
soon as possible. Why not? I don't know why not. I can now write no
more--which makes my heart sore. To all my kind friends much love--dove.
Addio! Your old young, till death--breath,

WOLFGANG AMADE ROSENCRANZ.

Miennham, eht ht5 rebotoc, 7771.



73.

Mannheim, Nov. 8, 1777.

This forenoon, at Herr Cannabich's, I wrote the Rondo of the sonata for
his daughter; so they would not let me leave them all day. The Elector
and the Electress, and the whole court, are very much pleased with me.
Both times I played at the concert, the Elector and she stood close
beside me at the piano. After the music was at an end, Cannabich managed
that I should be noticed by the court. I kissed the Elector's hand, who
said, "I think it is now fifteen years since you were here?" "Yes,
your Highness, it is fifteen years since I had that honor." "You play
inimitably." The Princess, when I kissed her hand, said, "Monsieur, je
vous assure, on ne peut pas jouer mieux."

Yesterday I went with Cannabich to pay the visit mamma already wrote to
you about [to Duke Carl Theodor's children], and there I conversed with
the Elector as if he had been some kind friend. He is a most gracious
and good Prince. He said to me, "I hear you wrote an opera at Munich"
["La finta Giardiniera"]? "Yes, your Highness, and, with your gracious
permission, my most anxious wish is to write an opera here; I entreat
you will not quite forget me. I could also write a German one, God be
praised!" said I, smiling. "That may easily be arranged." He has one
son and three daughters, the eldest of whom and the young Count play the
piano. The Elector questioned me confidentially about his children.
I spoke quite honestly, but without detracting from their master.
Cannabich was entirely of my opinion. The Elector, on going away, took
leave of me with much courtesy.

After dinner to-day I went, at two o'clock, with Cannabich to
Wendling's, the flute-player, where they were all complaisance. The
daughter, who was formerly the Elector's favorite, plays the piano very
prettily; afterwards I played. I cannot describe to you the happy mood I
was in. I played extempore, and then three duets with the violin, which
I had never in my life seen, nor do I now know the name of the author.
They were all so delighted that I--was desired to embrace the ladies. No
hard task with the daughter, for she is very pretty.

We then went again to the Elector's children; I played three times, and
from my heart too,--the Elector himself each time asking me to play. He
seated himself each time close to me and never stirred. I also asked a
certain Professor there to give me a theme for a fugue, and worked it
out.

Now for my congratulations!

My very dearest papa,--I cannot write poetically, for I am no poet. I
cannot make fine artistic phrases that cast light and shadow, for I am
no painter; I can neither by signs nor by pantomime express my thoughts
and feelings, for I am no dancer; but I can by tones, for I am
a musician. So to-morrow, at Cannabich's, I intend to play my
congratulations both for your name-day and birthday. Mon tres-cher pere,
I can only on this day wish for you, what from my whole heart I wish for
you every day and every night--health, long life, and a cheerful spirit.
I would fain hope, too, that you have now less annoyance than when I was
in Salzburg; for I must admit that I was the chief cause of this. They
treated me badly, which I did not deserve, and you naturally took my
part, only too lovingly. I can tell you this was indeed one of the
principal and most urgent reasons for my leaving Salzburg in such haste.
I hope, therefore, that my wish is fulfilled. I must now close by a
musical congratulation. I wish that you may live as many years as must
elapse before no more new music can be composed. Farewell! I earnestly
beg you to go on loving me a little, and, in the mean time, to excuse
these very poor congratulations till I open new shelves in my small and
confined knowledge-box, where I can stow away the good sense which I
have every intention to acquire.



74.

Mannheim, Nov. 13, 1777.

We received your last two letters, and now I must answer them in
detail. Your letter desiring me to inquire about Becke's parents [in
Wallerstein, No. 68] I did not get till I had gone to Mannheim, so too
late to comply with your wish; but it never would have occurred to me
to do so, for, in truth, I care very little about him. Would you like
to know how I was received by him? Well and civilly; that is, he asked
where I was going. I said, most probably to Paris. He then gave me a
vast deal of advice, saying he had recently been there, and adding, "You
will make a great deal by giving lessons, for the piano is highly prized
in Paris." He also arranged that I should dine at the officers'
table, and promised to put me in the way of speaking to the Prince.
He regretted very much having at that moment a sore throat, (which
was indeed quite true,) so that he could not go out with me himself to
procure me some amusement. He was also sorry that he could have no music
in honor of me, because most of the musical people had gone that very
day on some pedestrian excursion to--Heaven knows where! At his
request I tried his piano, which is very good. He often said Bravo! I
extemporized, and also played the sonatas in B and D. In short, he was
very polite, and I was also polite, but grave. We conversed on a variety
of topics--among others, about Vienna, and more particularly that the
Emperor [Joseph II.] was no great lover of music. He said, "It is true
he has some knowledge of composition, but of nothing else. I can still
recall (and he rubbed his forehead) that when I was to play before him
I had no idea what to play; so I began with some fugues and trifles of
that kind, which in my own mind I only laughed at." I could scarcely
resist saying, "I can quite fancy your laughing, but scarcely so loud
as I must have done had I heard you!" He further said (what is the fact)
that the music in the Emperor's private apartments is enough to frighten
the crows. I replied, that whenever I heard such music, if I did not
quickly leave the room it gave me a headache. "Oh! no; it has no such
effect on me; bad music does not affect my nerves, but fine music never
fails to give me a headache." I thought to myself again, such a shallow
head as yours is sure to suffer when listening to what is beyond its
comprehension.

Now for some of our news here. I was desired to go yesterday with
Cannabich to the Intendant, Count Savioli, to receive my present. It was
just what I had anticipated--a handsome gold watch. Ten Carolins would
have pleased me better just now, though the watch and chain, with its
appendages, are valued at twenty Carolins. Money is what is most needed
on a journey; and, by your leave, I have now five watches. Indeed, I
have serious thoughts of having a second watch-pocket made, and, when
I visit a grandee, to wear two watches, (which is indeed the fashion
here,) that no one may ever again think of giving me another. I see from
your letter that you have not yet read Vogler's book. [FOOTNOTE: Ton
Wissenschaft und Ton Kunst.] I have just finished it, having borrowed it
from Cannabich. His history is very short. He came here in a miserable
condition, performed on the piano, and composed a ballet. This excited
the Elector's compassion, who sent him to Italy. When the Elector was in
Bologna, he questioned Father Valoti about Vogler. "Oh! your Highness,
he is a great man," &c., &c. He then asked Father Martini the same
question. "Your Highness, he has talent; and by degrees, when he is
older and more solid, he will no doubt improve, though he must first
change considerably." When Vogler came back he entered the Church, was
immediately appointed Court Chaplain, and composed a Miserere which
all the world declares to be detestable, being full of false harmony.
Hearing; that it was not much commended, he went to the Elector and
complained that the orchestra played badly on purpose to vex and annoy
him; in short, he knew so well how to make his game (entering into so
many petty intrigues with women) that he became Vice-Capellmeister. He
is a fool, who fancies that no one can be better or more perfect than
himself. The whole orchestra, from the first to the last, detest him. He
has been the cause of much annoyance to Holzbauer. His book is more
fit to teach arithmetic than composition. He says that he can make a
composer in three weeks, and a singer in six months; but we have not yet
seen any proof of this. He despises the greatest masters. To myself he
spoke with contempt of Bach [Johann Christian, J. Sebastian's youngest
son, called the London Bach], who wrote two operas here, the first of
which pleased more than the second, Lucio Silla. As I had composed the
same opera in Milan, I was anxious to see it, and hearing from Holzbauer
that Vogler had it, I asked him to lend it to me. "With all my heart,"
said he; "I will send it to you to-morrow without fail, but you won't
find much talent in it." Some days after, when he saw me, he said with
a sneer, "Well, did you discover anything very fine--did you learn
anything from it? One air is rather good. What are the words?" asked he
of some person standing near. "What air do you mean?" "Why, that odious
air of Bach's, that vile--oh! yes, pupille amate. He must have written
it after a carouse of punch." I really thought I must have laid hold
of his pigtail; I affected, however, not to hear him, said nothing, and
went away. He has now served out his time with the Elector.

The sonata for Madlle. Rosa Cannabich is finished. Last Sunday I played
the organ in the chapel for my amusement. I came in while the Kyrie was
going on, played the last part, and when the priest intoned the Gloria I
made a cadence, so different, however, from what is usually heard here,
that every one looked round in surprise, and above all Holzbauer.
He said to me, "If I had known you were coming, I would have put out
another mass for you." "Oh!" said I, "to puzzle me, I suppose?" Old
Toeschi and Wendling stood all the time close beside me. I gave them
enough to laugh at. Every now and then came a pizzicato, when I rattled
the keys well; I was in my best humor. Instead of the Benedictus here,
there is always a voluntary, so I took the ideas of the Sanctus and
worked them out in a fugue. There they all stood making faces. At the
close, after Ita missa est, I played a fugue. Their pedal is different
from ours, which at first rather puzzled me, but I soon got used to
it. I must now conclude. Pray write to us still at Mannheim. I know all
about Misliweczeck's sonatas [see No. 64], and played them lately at
Munich; they are very easy and agreeable to listen to. My advice is that
my sister, to whom I humbly commend myself, should play them with much
expression, taste, and fire, and learn them by heart. For these are
sonatas which cannot fail to please every one, are not difficult to
commit to memory, and produce a good effect when played with precision.



75.

Mannheim, Nov. 13, 1777.

Potz Himmel! Croatians, demons, witches, hags, and cross batteries! Potz
Element! air, earth, fire, and water! Europe, Asia, Africa, and America!
Jesuits, Augustines, Benedictines, Capucins, Minorites, Franciscans,
Dominicans, Carthusians, and Knights of the Cross! privateers, canons
regular and irregular, sluggards, rascals, scoundrels, imps, and
villains all! donkeys, buffaloes, oxen, fools, blockheads, numskulls,
and foxes! What means this? Four soldiers and three shoulder-belts! Such
a thick packet and no portrait! [FOOTNOTE: The "Basle" (his cousin) had
promised him her portrait. She sent it subsequently to Salzburg, where
it still hangs in the Mozarteum.] I was so anxious about it--indeed, I
felt sure of getting it, having yourself written long ago to say that I
should have it soon, very soon. Perhaps you doubt my keeping my promise
[about the ornaments--see No. 71], but I cannot think this either. So
pray let me have the likeness as quickly as you can; and I trust it is
taken as I entreated--in French costume.

How do I like Mannheim? As well as I can any place where my cousin is
not. I hope, on the other hand, that you have at all events received my
two letters--one from Hohenaltheim, and one from Mannheim--this, such as
it is, being the third from here, but making the fourth in all. I must
conclude, for we are just going to dinner, and I am not yet dressed.
Love me as I love you, and then we shall never cease loving each other.
Adieu! J'espere que vous aurez deja pris quelque lection dans la langue
francaise, et je ne doute point que--ecoutez!--que vous aurez bientot le
francais mieux que moi; car il y a certainement deux ans que je n'ai pas
ecrit un mot de cette langue. Encore adieu! Je vous baise les mains.



76.

Mannheim, Nov. 14-16, 1777.

I, Johannes, Chrysostomus, Amadeus, Wolfgangus, Sigismundus, Mozart,
plead guilty to having both yesterday and the day before (and very often
besides) stayed away from home till twelve o'clock at night, from ten
o'clock till the aforesaid hour, I being in the presence and company of
M. Cannabich, his wife and daughter, the Herrn Schatzmeister, Ramm, and
Lang, making doggerel rhymes with the utmost facility, in thought and
word, but not in deed. I should not, however, have conducted myself
in so reckless a manner if our ringleader, namely, the so-called Lisel
(Elisabeth Cannabich), had not inveigled and instigated me to mischief,
and I am bound to admit that I took great pleasure in it myself. I
confess all these my sins and shortcomings from the depths of my heart;
and in the hope of often having similar ones to confess, I firmly
resolve to amend my present sinful life. I therefore beg for a
dispensation if it can be granted; but, if not, it is a matter of
indifference to me, for the game will go on all the same. Lusus enim
suum habet ambitum, says the pious singer Meissner, (chap. 9, p. 24,)
and also the pious Ascenditor, patron of singed coffee, musty lemonade,
milk of almonds with no almonds in it, and, above all, strawberry ice
full of lumps of ice, being himself a great connoisseur and artist in
these delicacies.

The sonata I composed for Madlle. Cannabich I intend to write out as
soon as possible on small paper, and to send it to my sister. I began
to teach it to Madlle. Rose three days ago, and she has learned the
allegro. The andante will give us most trouble, for it is full of
expression, and must be played with accuracy and taste, and the fortes
and pianos given just as they are marked. She is very clever, and learns
with facility. Her right hand is very good, but the left is unhappily
quite ruined. I must say that I do really feel very sorry for her, when
I see her laboring away till she is actually panting for breath; and
this not from natural awkwardness on her part, but because, being so
accustomed to this method, she cannot play in any other way, never
having been shown the right one. I said, both to her mother and herself,
that if I were her regular master I would lock up all her music, cover
the keys of the piano with a handkerchief, and make her exercise her
right and left hand, at first quite slowly in nothing but passages and
shakes, &c., until her hands were thoroughly trained; and after that
I should feel confident of making her a genuine pianiste. They both
acknowledged that I was right. It is a sad pity; for she has so much
genius, reads very tolerably, has great natural aptitude, and plays with
great feeling.

Now about the opera briefly. Holzbauer's music [for the first great
German operetta, "Gunther von Schwarzburg"] is very beautiful, but the
poetry is not worthy of such music. What surprises me most is, that so
old a man as Holzbauer should still have so much spirit, for the
opera is incredibly full of fire. The prima donna was Madame Elisabeth
Wendling, not the wife of the flute-player, but of the violinist. She
is in very delicate health; and, besides, this opera was not written for
her, but for a certain Madame Danzi, who is now in England; so it does
not suit her voice, and is too high for her. Herr Raaff, in four arias
of somewhere about 450 bars, sang in a manner which gave rise to the
remark that his want of voice was the principal cause of his singing
so badly. When he begins an air, unless at the same moment it recurs to
your mind that this is Raaff, the old but once so renowned tenor, I defy
any one not to burst out laughing. It is a fact, that in my own case I
thought, if I did not know that this is the celebrated Raaff, I
should be bent double from laughing, but as it is--I only take out my
handkerchief to hide a smile. They tell me here that he never was a good
actor; that people went to hear, but not to see him. He has by no means
a pleasing exterior. In this opera he was to die, singing in a long,
long, slow air; and he died laughing! and towards the end of the aria
his voice failed him so entirely that it was impossible to stand it!
I was in the orchestra next Wendling the flute-player, and as he had
previously criticized the song, saying it was unnatural to sing so long
before dying, adding, "I do think he will never die!" I said in return,
"Have a little patience; it will soon be all over with him, for I can
hear he is at the last gasp!" "And I too," said he, laughing. The second
singer, Madlle. Strasserin, sang very well, and is an admirable actress.

There is a national stage here, which is permanent like that at Munich;
German operettas are sometimes given, but the singers in them are
wretched. Yesterday I dined with the Baron and Baroness von Hagen,
Oberstjagermeister here. Three days ago I called on Herr Schmalz, a
banker, to whom Herr Herzog, or rather Nocker and Schidl, had given me
a letter. I expected to have found a very civil good sort of man. When
I gave him the letter, he read it through, made me a slight bow, and said
nothing. At last, after many apologies for not having sooner waited on
him, I told him that I had played before the Elector. "Really!" Altum
silentium. I said nothing, he said nothing. At last I began again: "I
will no longer intrude on you. I have the honor to"--Here he interrupted
me. "If I can be of any service to you, I beg"--"Before I leave this I
must take the liberty to ask you"--"Not for money?" "Yes, if you will
be so good as to"--"Oh! that I can't do; there is nothing in the letter
about money. I cannot give you any money, but anything else"--"There
is nothing else in which you can serve me--nothing whatever. I have the
honor to take my leave." I wrote the whole history yesterday to Herr
Herzog in Augsburg. We must now wait here for the answer, so you may
still write to us at Mannheim. I kiss your hand, and am your young
brother and father, as in your last letter you say "I am the old man and
son." To-day is the 16th when I finish this, or else you will not know
when it was sent off. "Is the letter ready?" "Yes, mamma, here it is!"



77.

Mannheim, Nov. 20, 1777.

The gala began again yesterday [in honor of the Elector's name-day].
I went to hear the mass, which was a spick-and-span new composition of
Vogler's. Two days ago I was present at the rehearsal in the afternoon,
but came away immediately after the Kyrie. I never in my life heard
anything like it; there is often false harmony, and he rambles into the
different keys as if he wished to drag you into them by the hair of
your head; but it neither repays the trouble, nor does it possess any
originality, but is only quite abrupt. I shall say nothing of the way in
which he carries out his ideas. I only say that no mass of Vogler's can
possibly please any composer (who deserves the name). For example, I
suddenly hear an idea which is NOT BAD. Well, instead of remaining NOT
BAD, no doubt it soon becomes good? Not at all! it becomes not only BAD,
but VERY BAD, and this in two or three different ways: namely, scarcely
has the thought arisen when something else interferes to destroy it; or
he does not finish it naturally, so that it may remain good; or it
is not introduced in the right place; or it is finally ruined by bad
instrumentation. Such is Vogler's music.

Cannabich composes far better than when we knew him in Paris, but what
both mamma and I remarked here at once in the symphonies is, that one
begins just like another, always slow and unisono. I must now, dear
papa, write you something about the Holy Cross in Augsburg, which I have
always forgotten to do. I met with a great many civilities there, and
the Prelate is the most good-natured man in the world--a kind, worthy
old simpleton, who may be carried off at any moment, for his breath
fails sadly. He recently--in fact, the very day we left--had an attack
of paralysis. He, and the Dean and Procurator, begged us when we came
back to Augsburg to drive straight to the Holy Cross. The Procurator
is as jolly as Father Leopold at Seeon. [FOOTNOTE: A cloister in Lower
Bavaria, that Wolfgang often visited with his father, as they had a dear
friend there, Father Johannes.] My cousin told me beforehand what kind
of man he was, so we soon became as well acquainted as if we had known
each other for twenty years. I lent him the mass in F, and the first of
the short masses in C, and the offertorium in counterpoint in D minor.
My fair cousin has undertaken to be custodian of these. I got back the
offertorium punctually, having desired that it should be returned first.
They all, and even the Prelate, plagued me to give them a litany, De
venerabili. I said I had not got it with me. I really was by no means
sure; so I searched, but did not find it. They gave me no peace,
evidently thinking that I only wished to evade their request; so I said,
"I really have not the litany with me; it is at Salzburg. Write to my
father; it is his affair. If he chooses to give it to you, well and
good; if not, I have nothing to do with it." A letter from the Deacon
to you will therefore probably soon make its appearance. Do just as you
please, but if you do send him one, let it be the last in E flat;
they have voices enough for anything, and a great many people will
be assembled at that time; they even write for them to come from a
distance, for it is their greatest festival. Adieu!



78.

Mannheim, Nov. 22, 1777.

THE first piece of information that I have to give you is, that my
truthful letter to Herr Herzog in Augsburg, puncto Schmalzii, has had a
capital effect. He wrote me a very polite letter in return, expressing
his annoyance that I should have been received so uncourteously by detto
Schmalz [melted butter]; so he herewith sent me a sealed letter to detto
Herr Milk, with a bill of exchange for 150 florins on detto Herr Cheese.
You must know that, though I only saw Herr Herzog once, I could not
resist asking him to send me a draft on Herr Schmalz, or to Herrn
Butter, Milk, and Cheese, or whom he would--a ca! This joke has
succeeded; it is no good making a poor mouth!

We received this forenoon (the 21st) your letter of the 17th. I was not
at home, but at Cannabich's, where Wendling was rehearsing a concerto
for which I have written the orchestral accompaniments. To-day at six
o'clock the gala concert took place. I had the pleasure of hearing Herr
Franzl (who married a sister of Madame Cannabich's) play a concerto on
the violin; he pleased me very much. You know that I am no lover of mere
difficulties. He plays difficult music, but it does not appear to be so;
indeed, it seems as if one could easily do the same, and this is
real talent. He has a very fine round tone, not a note wanting, and
everything distinct and well accentuated. He has also a beautiful
staccato in bowing, both up and down, and I never heard such a double
shake as his. In short, though in my opinion no WIZARD, he is a very
solid violin-player.--I do wish I could conquer my confounded habit of
writing crooked.

I am sorry I was not at Salzburg when that unhappy occurrence took place
about Madame Adlgasserin, so that I might have comforted her; and that
I would have done--particularly being so handsome a woman. [Footnote:
Adlgasser was the organist of the cathedral. His wife was thought very
stupid. See the letter of August 26, 1781.] I know already all that
you write to me about Mannheim, but I never wish to say anything
prematurely; all in good time. Perhaps in my next letter I may tell you
of something VERY GOOD in your eyes, but only GOOD in mine; or something
you will think VERY BAD, but I TOLERABLE; possibly, too, something only
TOLERABLE for you, but VERY GOOD, PRECIOUS, and DELIGHTFUL for me! This
sounds rather oracular, does it not? It is ambiguous, but still may be
divined.

My regards to Herr Bullinger; every time that I get a letter from you,
usually containing a few lines from him, I feel ashamed, as it reminds
me that I have never once written to my best and truest friend, from
whom I have received so much kindness and civility. But I cannot try to
excuse myself. I only beg of him to do so for me as far as possible,
and to believe that, as soon as I have a little leisure, I will write to
him--as yet I have had none; for from the moment I know that it is even
possible or probable that I may leave a place, I have no longer a single
hour I can call my own, and though I have now a glimmer of hope, still
I shall not be at rest till I know how things are. One of the oracle's
sayings must come to pass. I think it will be the middle one or the
last--I care not which, for at all events it will be something settled.

I no doubt wrote to you that Holzbauer's grand opera is in German. If
not, I write it now. The title is "Gunther von Schwarzburg," but not our
worshipful Herr Gunther, barber and councillor at Salzburg! "Rosamunde"
is to be given during the ensuing Carnival, the libretto being a recent
composition of Wieland's, and the music also a new composition of Herr
Schweitzer. Both are to come here. I have already seen some parts of the
opera and tried it over on the piano, but I say nothing about it as yet.
The target you have had painted for me, to be given in my name to the
shooting-match, is first-rate, and the verses inimitable. [Footnote: For
cross-bow practice, attended weekly by a circle of his Salzburg friends.
On the target was represented "the melancholy farewell of two persons
dissolved in tears, Wolfgang and the 'Basle.'"] I have now no more to
write, except that I wish you all a good night's rest, and that you may
all sleep soundly till this letter comes to wake you. Adieu! I embrace
from my heart--cart, my dear sister--blister, and am your dutiful and
attached son,

WOLFGANG AMADE MOZART,

Knight of the Golden Spur, Member of the great Verona Academy,
Bologna--oui, mon ami!



79.

Mannheim, Nov. 26, 1777. --MOREOVER, every one acquainted with Mannheim,
even the nobility, advised me to come here. The reason why we are still
in this place is that I have some thoughts of remaining the winter here,
and I am only waiting for an answer from the Elector to decide my plans.
The Intendant, Count Savioli, is a very worthy gentleman, and I told
him to inform the Elector that, this being such severe weather for
travelling, I am willing to remain here to teach the young Count [Carl
Theodor's son]. He promised me to do his best for me, but said that I
must have patience till the gala days were over. All this took place
with the consent and at the SUGGESTION of Cannabich. When I told him
that I had spoken to Savioli and what I had said, he replied he really
thought it was more likely to be brought about than not. Indeed,
Cannabich spoke to the Elector on the subject before the Count did
so; and now I must wait to hear the result. I am going to call on Herr
Schmalz to draw my 150 florins, for my landlord would no doubt prefer
the sound of gold to that of music. I little thought that I should have
the gift of a watch here, [see No. 74,] but such is again the case. I
would have been off long ago, but every one says to me, "Where do you
intend to go for the winter? Travelling is detestable in such weather;
stay here." Cannabich also wishes it very much; so now I have taken
steps to do so, and as such an affair cannot be hurried, I must wait
with patience, and I hope soon to be able to send you good news. I have
already two pupils certain, besides the ARCH ones, who certainly won't
give me less than a louis each monthly. Without these I could not indeed
manage to remain. Now let the matter rest as it is, or as it may be,
what avail useless speculations? What is to occur we do not know; still
in so far we do! what God wills!

Now for a cheerful allegro--non siete si pegro. [Footnote: "Don't be so
desponding."] If we do leave this, we shall go straight to--where? To
Weilburg, or whatever the name of the place may be, to the Princess,
sister of the Prince of Orange, whom we knew so well at the Hague. There
we shall stay--N. B., so long as we like the officers' table, and no
doubt receive at least six louis-d'or.

A few days ago Herr Sterkel came here from Wurzburg. The day before
yesterday, the 24th, I dined with Cannabich's, and again at Oberstjager
von Hagen's, and spent the evening al solito with Cannabich, where
Sterkel joined us, [Footnote: Abbe Sterkel, a favorite composer and
virtuoso on the piano, whom Beethoven, along with Simrock, Ries, and
the two Rombergs, visited in the autumn of 1791, in Aschaffenberg.]
and played five duets [sonatas with violin], but so quick that it was
difficult to follow the music, and neither distinctly nor in time. Every
one said the same. Madlle. Cannabich played my six sonatas, and in fact
better than Sterkel. I must now conclude, for I cannot write in bed, and
I am too sleepy to sit up any longer.



80.

Mannheim, Nov. 29, 1777.

I RECEIVED this morning your letter of the 24th, and perceive that you
cannot reconcile yourself to the chances of good or bad fortune, if,
indeed, the latter is to befall us. Hitherto, we four have neither been
very lucky nor very unlucky, for which I thank God. You make us many
reproaches which we do not deserve. We spend nothing but what is
absolutely necessary, and as to what is required on a journey, you know
that as well or better than we do. No one BUT MYSELF has been the cause
of our remaining so long in Munich; and had I been alone I should have
stayed there altogether. Why were we fourteen days in Augsburg? Surely
you cannot have got my letters from there? I wished to give a concert.
They played me false, so I thus lost eight days. I was absolument
determined to go away, but was not allowed, so strong was the wish that
I should give a concert. I wished to be urged to do so, and I was urged.
I gave the concert; this accounts for the fourteen days. Why did we go
direct to Mannheim? This I answered in my last letter. Why are we still
here? How can you suppose that I would stay here without good cause? But
my father, at all events, should--Well! you shall hear my reasons and
the whole course of the affair; but I had quite resolved not to write to
you on the subject until I could say something decided, (which even yet
I cannot do,) on purpose to avoid causing you care and anxiety, which I
always strive to do, for I knew that uncertain intelligence would only
fret you. But when you ascribe this to my negligence, thoughtlessness,
and indolence, I can only regret your having such an opinion of me,
and from my heart grieve that you so little know your son. I am not
careless, I am only prepared for the worst; so I can wait and bear
everything patiently, so long as my honor and my good name of Mozart
remain uninjured. But if it must be so, so let it be. I only beg that
you will neither rejoice nor lament prematurely; for whatever may
happen, all will be well if we only have health; for happiness
exists--merely in the imagination.

Last Thursday week I went in the forenoon to wait on Count Savioli, and
asked him if it were possible to induce the Elector to keep me here this
winter, as I was anxious to give lessons to his children. His answer
was, "I will suggest it to the Elector, and if it depends on me, the
thing will certainly be done." In the afternoon I went to Cannabich's,
and as I had gone to Savioli by his advice, he immediately asked me if I
had been there. I told him everything, on which he said, "I should like
you very much to spend the winter with us, but still more to see you in
some permanent situation." I replied, "I could wish nothing better than
to be settled near you, but I don't see how it is possible. You have
already two Capellmeisters, so I don't know what I could have, for I
would not be subordinate to Vogler." "That you would never be," said
he. "Here not one of the orchestra is under the Capellmeister, nor
even under the Intendant. The Elector might appoint you Chamber Court
composer; only wait a little, and I will speak to Count Savioli on the
subject." On the Thursday after there was a grand concert. When the
Count saw me, he apologized for not having yet spoken to the Elector,
these being still gala days; but as soon as they were over (next Monday)
he would certainly speak to his Royal Highness. I let three days pass,
and, still hearing nothing whatever, I went to him to make inquiries. He
said, "My good M. Mozart, (this was yesterday, Friday,) today there was
a chasse, so it was impossible for me to ask the Elector, but to-morrow
at this hour I will certainly give you an answer." I begged him not
to forget it. To tell you the truth, when I left him I felt rather
indignant, so I resolved to take with me the easiest of my six
variations of the Fischer minuet, (which I wrote here for this express
purpose,) to present to the young Count, in order to have an opportunity
to speak to the Elector myself. When I went there, you cannot conceive
the delight of the governess, by whom I was most politely received.
When I produced the variations, and said that they were intended for
the young Count, she said, "Oh! that is charming, but I hope you have
something for the Countess also." "Nothing as yet," said I, "but if I
stay here long enough to have time to write something I will do so." "A
propos," said she, "I am so glad that you stay the winter here." "I? I
have not heard a word of it." "That does surprise me; how very odd!
for the Elector told me so himself lately; he said, 'By the by, Mozart
remains here all winter.'" "Well, when he said so, he was the only man
who could say so, for without the Elector I of course cannot remain
here;" and then I told her the whole story. We agreed that I should come
the next day (that is, to-day) at four o'clock, and bring some piece of
music for the Countess. She was to speak to the Elector before I came;
and I should be certain to meet him. I went today, but he had not been
there at all; but I shall go again to-morrow. I have written a Rondo for
the Countess. Have I not then sufficient cause to stay here and await
the result? As this important step is finally taken, ought I at this
moment to set off? I have now an opportunity of speaking to the Elector
myself. I shall most probably spend the winter here, for I am a favorite
with his Royal Highness, who thinks highly of me, and knows what I can
do. I hope to be able to give you good news in my next letter. I entreat
you once more neither to rejoice nor to be uneasy too soon, and not to
confide the affair to any one except Herr Bullinger and my sister. I
send my sister the allegro and the andante of the sonata I wrote for
Madlle. Cannabich. The Rondo will follow shortly; the packet would have
been too heavy had I sent it with the others. You must be satisfied with
the original, for you can more easily get it copied for six kreutzers a
sheet than I for twenty-four. Is not that dear? Adieu! Possibly you
have heard some stray bits of this sonata; for at Cannabich's it is
sung three times a day at least, played on the piano and violin, or
whistled--only sotto voce, to be sure.



81.

Mannheim, Dec. 3, 1777.

I CAN still write nothing certain about my fate here. Last Monday, after
going three days in succession to my ARCH pupils, morning and afternoon,
I had the good fortune at last to meet the Elector. We all, indeed,
thought that I had again come in vain, as it was so late in the day,
but at length we saw him coming. The governess made the Countess seat
herself at the piano, and I placed myself beside her to give her a
lesson, and it was thus the Elector found us on entering. We rose, but
he desired us to continue the lesson. When she had finished playing, the
governess addressed him, saying that I had written a beautiful Rondo.
I played it, and it pleased him exceedingly. At last he said, "Do you
think that she will be able to learn it?" "Oh! yes," said I; "I only
wish I had the good fortune to teach it to her myself." He smiled, and
said, "I should also like it; but would it not be prejudicial to her to
have two masters?" "Oh, no! your Highness," said I; "it all depends on
whether she has a good or a bad one. I hope your Highness will place
trust and confidence in me." "Oh, assuredly," said he. The governess
then said, "M. Mozart has also written these variations on the Fischer
minuet for the young Count." I played them, and he seemed to like them
much. He now began to jest with the Countess. I thanked him for his
present of a watch. He said, "I must reflect on your wish; how long do
you intend to remain here?" My answer was, "As long as your Highness
commands me to do so;" and then the interview was at an end. I went
there again this morning, and was told that the Elector had repeated
yesterday, "Mozart stays here this winter." Now I am fairly in for it;
so you see I must wait.

I dined to-day (for the fourth time) with Wendling. Before dinner, Count
Savioli came in with Capellmeister Schweitzer, who arrived yesterday
evening. Savioli said to me, "I spoke again yesterday to the Elector,
but he has not yet made up his mind." I answered, "I wish to say a few
words to you privately;" so we went to the window. I told him the doubt
the Elector had expressed, a

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