"No doubt you perceive by the accompanying letter that when Wolfgang
makes new friends he would give his life for them. It is true that she
does sing incomparably; still, we ought not to lose sight of our own
interests. I never liked his being in the society of Wendling and Ramm,
but I did not venture to object to it, nor would he have listened to
me; but no sooner did he know these Webers than he instantly changed his
mind. In short, he prefers other people to me, for I remonstrate with
him sometimes, and that he does not like. I write this quite secretly
while he is at dinner, for I don't wish him to know it."
A few days later Wolfgang urges his father still more strongly.
92.
Mannheim, Feb. 7, 1778.
HERR SCHIEDENHOFEN might have let me know long ago through you that his
wedding was soon to take place [see Nos. 7, 10, 19], and I would have
composed a new minuet for the occasion. I cordially wish him joy; but
his is, after all, only one of those money matches, and nothing else! I
hope never to marry in this way; I wish to make my wife happy, but not
to become rich by her means; so I will let things alone, and enjoy my
golden freedom till I am so well off that I can support both wife and
children. Herr Schiedenhofen was forced to choose a rich wife; his
title imposed this on him. The nobility must not marry for love or from
inclination, but from interest, and all kinds of other considerations.
It would not at all suit a grandee to love his wife after she had done
her duty, and brought into the world an heir to the property. But we
poor humble people are privileged not only to choose a wife who loves
us, and whom we love, but we may, can, and do take such a one, because
we are neither noble, nor highborn, nor rich, but, on the contrary,
lowly, humble, and poor; we therefore need no wealthy wife, for our
riches being in our heads, die with us, and these no man can deprive us
of unless he cut them off, in which case we need nothing more.
I lately wrote to you my chief reason for not going to Paris with these
people, but another is that I have reflected well on what I have to do
in Paris. I could not get on passably without pupils, which is a kind
of work that does not suit me--of this I have a strong example here. I
might have had two pupils: I went three times to each, but finding one
of them not at home, I never went back. I am willing to give lessons
out of complaisance, especially when I see genius, and inclination and
anxiety to learn; but to be obliged to go to a house at a certain hour,
or else to wait at home, is what I cannot submit to, if I were to gain
twice what I do. I find it impossible, so must leave it to those who
can do nothing but play the piano. I am a composer, and born to become
a Kapellmeister, and I neither can nor ought thus to bury the talent
for composition with which God has so richly endowed me (I may say this
without arrogance, for I feel it now more than ever); and this I should
do were I to take many pupils, for it is a most unsettled metier; and
I would rather, SO TO SPEAK, neglect the piano than composition, for I
look on the piano to be only a secondary consideration, though, thank
God! a very strong one too. My third reason is, that I am by no means
sure our friend Grimm is in Paris. If he is, I can go there at any time
with the post-carriage, for a capital one travels from here to Paris by
Strassburg. We intended at all events to have gone by it. They travel
also in this way. Herr Wendling is inconsolable at my not going with
them, but I believe this proceeds more from self-interest than from
friendship. Besides the reason I gave him (about the three letters
that had come during my absence), I also told him about the pupils, and
begged him to procure something certain for me, in which case I would be
only too glad to follow him to Paris, (for I can easily do so,)--above
all, if I am to write an opera, which is always in my thoughts; but
French rather than German, and Italian rather than French or German. The
Wendlings, one and all, are of opinion that my compositions would please
much in Paris. I have no fears on the subject, for, as you know, I can
pretty well adapt or conform myself to any style of composition. Shortly
after my arrival I composed a French song for Madlle. Gustel (the
daughter), who gave me the words, and she sings it inimitably. I have
the pleasure to enclose it for you. It is sung every day at Wendling's,
for they are quite infatuated with it.
93.
Mannheim, Feb. 14, 1778.
I PERCEIVE by your letter of the 9th of February that you have not
yet received my last two letters. Wendling and Kamm leave this early
to-morrow morning. If I thought that you would be really displeased with
me for not going to Paris with them, I should repent having stayed here;
but I hope it is not so. The road to Paris is still open to me. Wendling
has promised to inquire immediately about Herr Grimm, and to send me
information at once. With such a friend in Paris, I certainly shall go
there, for no doubt he will bring something to bear for me. The main
cause of my not going with them is, that we have not been able to
arrange about mamma returning to Augsburg. The journey will not cost
much, for there are vetturini here who can be engaged at a cheap rate.
By that time, however, I hope to have made enough to pay mamma's journey
home. Just now I don't really see that it is possible. Herr de Jean sets
off to-morrow for Paris, and as I have only finished two concertos and
three quartets for him, he sent me 96 florins (having made a mistake of
four florins, thinking this sum the half of the 200); he must, however,
pay me in full, for such was the agreement I made with Wendling, and
I can send him the other pieces. It is not surprising that I have been
unable to finish them, for I never have a single quiet hour here. I can
only write at night, so I cannot rise early; besides, one is not always
disposed to work. I could, to be sure, scrawl away all day, but a thing
of this kind goes forth to the world, and I am resolved not to have
cause to be ashamed of my name on the title-page. Moreover, you know
that I become quite obtuse when obliged to write perpetually for an
instrument that I cannot bear; so from time to time I do something else,
such as duets for the piano and violin, and I also worked at the mass.
Now I have begun the pianoforte duets in good earnest, in order to
publish them. If the Elector were only here, I would very quickly finish
the mass; but what must be must be!
I am very grateful to you, dear papa, for your fatherly letter; I will
preserve it as a treasure, and always refer to it. Pray do not forget
about my mother's journey from Augsburg to Salzburg, and let me know the
precise day; and I beg you will also remember the arias I mentioned in
my last letter. If I recollect rightly, there are also some cadenzas
which I once jotted down, and at all events an aria cantabile with
coloraturas? I wish to have these first, for they will serve as
exercises for Madlle. Weber. I have just taught her an andantino
cantabile of Bach's. Yesterday there was a concert at Cannabich's, where
from first to last all the music was of my composition, except the first
symphony, which was Cannabich's. Madlle. Rose played my concerto in
B, then Herr Ramm (by way of a change) played for the fifth time the
hautboy concerto dedicated to Ferlendi, which makes a great sensation
here. It is now quite Ramm's cheval de bataille. Madlle. Weber sang De'
Amicis's aria di bravura quite charmingly. Then I played my old concerto
in D, because it is such a favorite here, and likewise extemporized for
half an hour, after which Madlle. Weber sang De' Amicis's air, "Parto m'
affretto;" and, as a finale, my symphony "Il Re Pastore" was given. I
do entreat you urgently to interest yourself in Madlle. Weber; it would
make me so happy if good-fortune were to attend her. Husband and wife,
five children, and a salary of 450 florins! Don't forget about Italy,
and my desire to go there; you know my strong wish and passion. I hope
all may go right. I place my trust in God, who will never forsake us.
Now farewell, and don't forget all my requests and recommendations.
These letters alarmed the father exceedingly, so he wrote a long and
very earnest letter to his son as follows:--"The object of your journey
was to assist your parents, and to contribute to your dear sister's
welfare, but, above all, that you might acquire honor and fame in the
world, which you in some degree did in your boyhood; and now it rests
entirely with you to raise yourself by degrees to one of the highest
positions ever attained by any musician. This is a duty you owe to a
kind Providence in return for the remarkable talents with which He
has gifted you; and it depends wholly on your own good sense and good
conduct, whether you become a commonplace artist whom the world will
forget, or a celebrated Capellmeister, of whom posterity will read
hereafter in books,--whether, infatuated with some pretty face, you one
day breathe your last on a straw sack, your wife and children in a state
of starvation, or, after a well-spent Christian life, die peacefully in
honor and independence, and your family well provided for." He goes on
to represent to him how little he has hitherto fulfilled the object of
his journey, and, above all, the folly of wishing to place so young a
girl on the Italian stage as a prima donna, both time and great training
being previously required. Moreover, it would be quite unworthy of
him to wander about the world with strangers, and to compose at random
merely for money. "Get off to Paris without delay. Take your place by
the side of really great people. Aut Caesar aut nihil. The very idea of
Paris should have guarded you from all passing fancies."