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, and complained of the affair dragging on
so long, and said how much I had already spent here, entreating him to
persuade the Elector to engage me permanently; for I fear that he will
give me so little during the winter that it will be impossible for me
to remain. "Let him give me work; for I like work." He said he would
certainly suggest it to him, but this evening it was out of the
question, as he was not to go to court; to-morrow, however, he promised
me a decided answer. Now, let what will happen. If he does not engage
me, I shall, at all events, apply for a sum of money for my travelling
expenses, as I have no intention to make him a present of the Rondo and
the variations. I assure you I am very easy on the subject, because I
feel quite certain that, come what may, all will go right. I am entirely
submissive to the will of God.
Your letter of the 27th arrived yesterday, and I hope you received the
allegro and andante of the sonata. I now enclose the Rondo. Schweitzer
is a good, worthy, upright man, dry and candid like our Haydn; only his
mode of speaking is more polished. There are some very beautiful things
in his new opera, and I don't doubt that it will prove a great success.
"Alceste" is much liked, and yet it is not half so fine as "Rosamunde."
Being the first German operetta no doubt contributed very much to its
popularity; but now--N. B., on minds chiefly attracted by novelty--it
scarcely makes the same impression. Herr Wieland, whose poetry it is,
is also to come here this winter. That is a man I should indeed like
to see. Who knows? Perhaps I may. When you read this, dear papa, please
God, all will be settled.
If I do stay here, I am going to Paris during Lent with Herr Wendling,
Herr Ramm, the hautboy-player, who plays admirably, and Ballet-master
Cauchery. Wendling assures me I shall never regret it; he has been twice
in Paris, and has only just returned from there. He says, "It is, in
fact, the only place where either real fame or money is to be acquired.
You are a man of genius; I will put you on the right path. You must
write an opera seria and comique, an oratorio, and every kind of thing.
Any one who composes a couple of operas in Paris receives a certain
sum yearly. There is also the Concert Spirituel and the Academie des
Amateurs, where you get five louis-d'or for a symphony. If you teach,
the custom is three louis-d'or for twelve lessons; and then you get your
sonatas, trios, and quartets published by subscription. Cannabich and
Toeschi send a great part of their music to Paris." Wendling is a man
who understands travelling. Write me your opinion of this scheme, I beg;
it seems to me both wise and profitable. I shall travel with a man who
knows all the ins and outs of Paris (as it now is) by heart, for it is
very much changed. I should spend very little--indeed, I believe not one
half of what I do at present, for I should only have to pay for myself,
as mamma would stay here, and probably with the Wendlings.
On the 12th of this month, Herr Ritter, who plays the bassoon
beautifully, sets off for Paris. If I had been alone, this would have
been a famous opportunity for me; indeed, he spoke to me himself
about it. Ramm (hautboy-player) is a good, jolly, worthy man, about
thirty-five, who has travelled a great deal, so has much experience.
The first and best musicians here like me very much, and respect me too.
They always call me Herr Capellmeister. I cannot say how much I regret
not having at least the copy of a mass with me, for I should certainly
have had it performed, having lately heard one of Holzbauer's, which is
also in our style. If I had only a copy of the Misericordias! But so it
is, and it can't be helped now. I would have had one transcribed here,
but copying does cost so much. Perhaps I should not have got as much for
the mass itself as I must have paid for the copy. People here are by no
means so very liberal.
82.
Mannheim, Dec. 6, 1777.
I CAN tell you nothing certain yet. I begin to be rather tired of this
joke; I am only curious to know the result. Count Savioli has spoken
three times to the Elector, and the answer was invariably a shrug of the
shoulders, and "I will give you an answer presently, but--I have not yet
made up my mind." My kind friends here quite agree with me in thinking
that this hesitation and reserve are rather a favorable omen than the
reverse. For if the Elector was resolved not to engage me, he would
have said so at once; so I attribute the delay to Denari siamo un poco
scrocconi [we are a little stingy of our money]. Besides, I know for
certain that the Prince likes me; a buon canto, so we must wait. I may
now say that it will be very welcome to me if the affair turns out well;
if not, I shall much regret having lingered here so long and spent so
much money. At all events, whatever the issue may be, it cannot be
an evil one if it be the will of God; and my daily prayer is that the
result may be in accordance with it. You have indeed, dear papa, rightly
guessed the chief cause of Herr Cannabich's friendship for me. There is,
however, another small matter in which he can make use of me--namely, he
is obliged to publish a collection of all his ballets arranged for the
piano. Now, he cannot possibly write these out himself in such a manner
that the work may be correct and yet easy. For this purpose I am
very welcome to him; (this was the case already with one of his
contredanses.) He has been out shooting for the last week, and is not to
return till next Tuesday. Such things contribute, indeed, very much to
our good friendship; but, independent of this, he would at least never
be inimical to me, for he is very much changed. When a man comes to a
certain age, and sees his children grown up, he then no doubt thinks a
little differently. His daughter, who is fifteen, and his eldest child,
is a very pretty, pleasing girl. She has great good sense for her age,
and an engaging demeanor; she is rather grave and does not talk much,
but what she does say is always amiable and good-natured. She caused me
most indescribable pleasure yesterday, by playing my sonata in the
most admirable manner. The andante (which must not be played QUICK) she
executed with the greatest possible feeling; and she likes to play it.
You know that I finished the first allegro when I had been only two days
here, and that I had then only seen Madlle. Cannabich once. Young Danner
asked me how I intended to compose the andante. "Entirely in accordance
with Madlle. Rose's character," said I. When I played it, it seemed
to please much. Danner mentioned afterwards what I had said. And it is
really so; she is just what the andante is. To-day I dined for the
sixth time with Wendling, and for the second time in the company of
Herr Schweitzer. To-morrow, by way of a change, I dine there again;
I actually have my board there. I must now go to bed, so I wish you
good-night.
I have this moment returned from Wendling's, and as soon as I have
posted this letter I am going back there, for the opera is to be
rehearsed in camera caritatis, as it were. I am going to Cannabich's
afterwards, at half-past six o'clock, to give my usual daily
music-lesson. A propos, I must correct a statement of mine. I said
yesterday that Madlle. Cannabich was fifteen; it seems, however,
that she is only just thirteen. Our kind regards to all our friends,
especially to Herr Bullinger.
83.
Mannheim, Dec. 10, 1777.
ALL is at an end, for the present, with the Elector. I went to the court
concert the day before yesterday, in the hope of getting an answer.
Count Savioli evidently wished to avoid me; but I went up to him. When
he saw me he shrugged his shoulders. "What!" said I, "still no answer?"
"Pardon me!" said he, "but I grieve to say nothing can be done." "Eh,
bien!" said I, "the Elector might have told me so sooner!" "True,"
said he, "but he would not even now have made up his mind, if I had not
driven him to it by saying that you had already stayed here too long,
spending your money in a hotel." "Truly, that is what vexes me most of
all," I replied; "it is very far from pleasant. But, at all events, I
am very much indebted to you, Count, (for he is not called "your
Excellency,") for having taken my part so zealously, and I beg you
will thank the Elector from me for his gracious, though somewhat tardy
information; and I can assure him that, had he accepted my services, he
never would have had cause to regret it." "Oh!" said he, "I feel more
convinced of that than perhaps you think." When I told Herr Wendling
of the final decision, he colored and said, quite indignantly, "Then we
must find the means; you must, at least, remain here for the next two
months, and after that we can go together to Paris. To-morrow Cannabich
returns from shooting, and then we can talk further on the subject." I
left the concert immediately, and went straight to Madame Cannabich.
On my way thither, Herr Schatzmeister having come away from the concert
with me, I told him all about it, as he is a good worthy man and a kind
friend of mine. You cannot conceive how angry he was. When we went into
Madame Cannabich's house, he spoke first, saying, "I bring you a man
who shares the usual happy fate of those who have to do with courts."
"What!" said Madame, "so it has all come to nothing?" I told her the
whole, and in return they related to me numbers of similar things which
had occurred here. When Madlle. Rose (who was in the third room from us,
busy with the linen) had finished, she came in and said to me, "Do you
wish me to begin now?" as it was the hour for her lesson. "I am at
your orders," said I. "Do you know," said she, "that I mean to be very
attentive to-day?" "I am sure you will," answered I, "for the lessons
will not continue much longer." "How so? What do you mean?--Why?" She
turned to her mamma, who told her. "What!" said she, "is this quite
certain? I cannot believe it." "Yes--yes; quite certain," said I. She
then played my sonata, but looked very grave. Do you know, I really
could not suppress my tears; and at last they had all tears in their
eyes--mother, daughter, and Schatzmeister, for she was playing the
sonata at the moment, which is the favorite of the whole family.
"Indeed," said Schatzmeister, "if the Herr Capellmeister (I am never
called anything else here) leaves us, it will make us all weep." I
must say that I have very kind friends here, for it is under such
circumstances that we learn to know them; for they are so, not only in
words but in deeds. Listen to this! The other day I went, as usual, to
dine with Wendling, when he said to me, "Our Indian friend (a Dutchman,
who lives on his own means, and is an amateur of all the fine arts, and
a great friend and admirer of mine) is certainly an excellent fellow.
He will give you twenty florins to write for him three little easy short
concertos, and a couple of quattros for a leading flute. Cannabich can
get you at least two pupils, who will play well; and you could write
duets for the piano and violin, and publish them by subscription. Dinner
and supper you will always have with us, and lodgings you have at the
Herr Hofkammerrath's; so all this will cost you nothing. As for your
mother, we can easily find her a cheap lodging for these two months,
till you have had time to write about the matter to your father, when
she will leave this for Salzburg and we for Paris." Mamma is quite
satisfied; so all that is yet wanting is your consent, of which I feel
so sure that, if the time for our journey were now come, I would set
off for Paris without waiting for your reply; for I could expect nothing
else from a sensible father, hitherto so anxious for the welfare of his
children. Herr Wendling, who sends you his compliments, is very intimate
with our dear friend Grimm, who, when he was here, spoke a great
deal about me to Wendling; this was when he had just come from us at
Salzburg. As soon as I receive your answer to this letter, I mean to
write to him, for a stranger whom I met at dinner to-day told me that
Grimm was now in Paris. As we don't leave this till the 8th of March,
I beg you, if possible, to try to procure for me, either through Herr
Mesmer at Vienna, or some one else, a letter to the Queen of France, if
it can be done without much difficulty; if not, it does not much matter.
It would be better if I could have one--of that there is no doubt; this
is also the advice of Herr Wendling. I suppose what I am now writing
must appear very strange to you, because you are in a city where there
are only stupid enemies, and weak and simple friends, whose dreary daily
bread at Salzburg is so essential to them, that they become flatterers,
and are not to be depended on from day to day. Indeed, this was why I
wrote you nothing but childish nonsense, and jokes, and folly; I wished
to await the event here, to save you from vexation, and my good friends
from blame; for you very unwarrantably accuse them of working against
me in an underhand way, which they certainly never did. Your letters
obliged me to relate the whole affair to you. I entreat you most
earnestly not to distress yourself on the subject; God has willed it
so. Reflect also on this most undoubted truth, that we cannot do all we
wish. We often think that such and such a thing would be very good, and
another equally bad and evil, and yet if these things came to pass, we
should sometimes learn that the very reverse was the case.
I must now go to bed. I shall have plenty of work to do during the two
months of my stay,--three concertos, two quartets, five or six duets for
the piano, and I also have thoughts of composing a new grand mass, and
dedicating it to the Elector. Adieu! I will write to Prince Zeill next
post-day to press forward matters in Munich; if you would also write to
him, I should be very glad. But short and to the point--no cringing! for
that I cannot bear. It is quite certain that he can do it if he likes,
for all Munich told me so [see Nos. 56 and 60].
84.
Mannheim, Dec. 14, 1777.
I CAN only write a few words, as I did not get home till four o'clock,
when I had a lesson to give to the young lady of the house. It is now
nearly half-past five, so time to close my letter. I will ask mamma to
write a few days beforehand, so that all our news may not be of the
same date, for I can't easily do this. The little time that I have for
writing must be devoted to composition, for I have a great deal of work
before me. I entreat you to answer me very soon as to my journey to
Paris. I played over my concertone on the piano to Herr Wendling, who
said it was just the thing for Paris; if I were to play that to Baron
Bach, he would be in ecstasies. Adieu!
85.
[A P.S. TO A LETTER FROM HIS MOTHER.]
Mannheim, Dec. 18, 1777.
IN the greatest haste and hurry! The organ that was tried to-day in the
Lutheran church is very good, not only in certain registers, but in
its whole compass. [Footnote: The mother writes: "A Lutheran of degree
called on us to-day, and invited Wolfgang, with all due politeness, to
try their new organ."] Vogler played on it. He is only a juggler, so
to speak; as soon as he wishes to play in a majestic style, he becomes
dull. Happily this seems equally tedious to himself, so it does not
last long; but then, what follows? only an incomprehensible scramble.
I listened to him from a distance. He began a fugue, in chords of six
notes, and presto. I then went up to him, for I would far rather see
than hear him. There were a great many people present, and among the
musicians Holzbauer, Cannabich, Toeschi, &c.
A quartet for the Indian Dutchman, that true benefactor of man, will
soon be finished. A propos, Herr told me that he had written to you by
the last post. Addio! I was lately obliged to direct the opera with some
violins at Wendling's, Schweitzer being unwell.
86.
Mannheim, Dec. 20, 1777.
I WISH you, dearest papa, a very happy new-year, and that your health,
so precious in my eyes, may daily improve, for the benefit and happiness
of your wife and children, the satisfaction of your true friends, and
for the annoyance and vexation of your enemies. I hope also that in the
coming year you will love me with the same fatherly tenderness you have
hitherto shown me. I on my part will strive, and honestly strive, to
deserve still more the love of such an admirable father. I was cordially
delighted with your last letter of the 15th of December, for, thank God!
I could gather from it that you are very well indeed. We, too, are in
perfect health, God be praised! Mine is not likely to fail if constant
work can preserve it. I am writing this at eleven at night, because
I have no other leisure time. We cannot very well rise before eight
o'clock, for in our rooms (on the ground-floor) it is not light till
half-past eight. I then dress quickly; at ten o'clock I sit down to
compose till twelve or half-past twelve, when I go to Wendling's, where
I generally write till half-past one; we then dine. At three o'clock I
go to the Mainzer Hof (an hotel) to a Dutch officer, to give him lessons
in galanterie playing and thorough bass, for which, if I mistake not,
he gives me four ducats for twelve lessons. At four o'clock I go home to
teach the daughter of the house. We never begin till half past four,
as we wait for lights. At six o'clock I go to Cannabich's to instruct
Madlle. Rose. I stay to supper there, when we converse and sometimes
play; I then invariably take a book out of my pocket and read, as I used
to do at Salzburg. I have already written to you the pleasure your last
letter caused me, which is quite true; only one thing rather vexed me,
the inquiry whether I had not perchance forgotten to go to confession.
I shall not say anything further on this. Only allow me to make you one
request, which is, not to think so badly of me. I like to be merry,
but rest assured that I can be as serious as any one. Since I quitted
Salzburg (and even in Salzburg) I have met with people who spoke and
acted in a way that I should have felt ashamed to do, though they
were ten, twenty, and thirty years older than myself. I implore of you
therefore once more, and most earnestly, to have a better opinion of me.
87.
Mannheim, Dec. 27, 1777.
A PRETTY sort of paper this! I only wish I could make it better; but
it is now too late to send for any other. You know, from our previous
letters, that mamma and I have a capital lodging. It never was my
intention that she should live apart from me; in fact, when the
Hofkammerrath Serrarius so kindly offered me his house, I only expressed
my thanks, which is by no means saying yes. The next day I went to see
him with Herr Wendling and M. de Jean (our worthy Dutchman), and only
waited till he should himself begin the subject. At length he renewed
his offer, and I thanked him in these words: "I feel that it is a true
proof of friendship on your part to do me the honor to invite me to live
in your house; but I regret that unfortunately I cannot accept your most
kind proposal. I am sure you will not take it amiss when I say that I am
unwilling to allow my mother to leave me without sufficient cause; and
I certainly know no reason why mamma should live in one part of the town
and I in another. When I go to Paris, her not going with me would be a
considerable pecuniary advantage to me, but here for a couple of months
a few gulden more or less do not signify."
By this speech my wish was entirely fulfilled,--that is, that our board
and lodging do not at all events make us poorer. I must go up-stairs
to supper, for we have now chatted till half-past ten o'clock. I lately
went with my scholar, the Dutch officer, M. de la Pottrie, into the
Reformed church, where I played for an hour and a half on the organ. It
came right from my heart too. We--that is, the Cannabichs, Wendlings,
Serrariuses, and Mozarts--are going to the Lutheran Church, where I
shall amuse myself gloriously on the organ. I tried its tone at the
same rehearsal that I wrote to you about, but played very little, only a
prelude and a fugue.
I have made acquaintance with Herr Wieland. He does not, however, know
me as I know him, for he has heard nothing of me as yet. I had not
at all imagined him to be what I find him. He speaks in rather a
constrained way, and has a childish voice, his eyes very watery, and
a certain pedantic uncouthness, and yet at times provokingly
condescending. I am not, however, surprised that he should choose to
behave in this way at Mannheim, though no doubt very differently at
Weimar and elsewhere, for here he is stared at as if he had fallen from
the skies. People seem to be so ceremonious in his presence, no one
speaks, all are as still as possible, striving to catch every word he
utters. It is unlucky that they are kept so long in expectation, for he
has some impediment in his speech which causes him to speak very slowly,
and he cannot say six words without pausing. Otherwise he is, as we all
know, a man of excellent parts. His face is downright ugly and seamed
with the small-pox, and he has a long nose. His height is rather beyond
that of papa.
You need have no misgivings as to the Dutchman's 200 florins. I must now
conclude, as I should like to compose for a little time. One thing more:
I suppose I had better not write to Prince Zeill at present. The reason
you no doubt already know, (Munich being nearer to Salzburg than to
Mannheim,) that the Elector is at the point of death from small-pox.
This is certain, so there will be a struggle there. Farewell! As for
mamma's journey home, I think it could be managed best during Lent, by
her joining some merchants. This is only my own idea; but what I do feel
quite sure of is, that whatever you think right will be best, for you
are not only the Herr Hofcapellmeister, but the most rational of all
rational beings. If you know such a person as papa, tell him I kiss his
hands 1000 times, and embrace my sister from my heart, and in spite of
all this scribbling I am your dutiful son and affectionate brother.
88.
Mannheim, Jan. 7, 1778.
I HOPE you are both well. I am, thank God! in good health and spirits.
You may easily conceive my sorrow at the death of the Elector of
Bavaria. My sole wish is that our Elector here may have the whole of
Bavaria, and transfer himself to Munich. I think you also would like
this. This forenoon at twelve o'clock, Carl Theodor was proclaimed
at court Duke of Bavaria. At Munich, Count Daun, Oberststallmeister,
immediately on the death of the Prince, received homage in the name of
the Elector, and sent the dragoons to ride all round the environs of the
city with trumpets and kettledrums, and to shout "Long live our Elector,
Carl Theodor!" If all goes well, as I hope it may, Count Daun will
receive a very handsome present. His aid-de-camp, whom he dispatched
here with the tidings, (his name is Lilienau,) got 3000 florins from the
Elector.
89.