112.
St. Germains, August 27, 1778.
I WRITE to you very hurriedly; you will see that I am not in Paris.
Herr Bach, from London [Johann Christian], has been here for the last
fortnight. He is going to write a French opera, and is only come for
the purpose of hearing the singers, and afterwards goes to London to
complete the opera, and returns here to put it on the stage. You may
easily imagine his joy and mine when we met again; perhaps his delight
may not be quite as sincere as mine, but it must be admitted that he is
an honorable man and willing to do justice to others. I love him from my
heart (as you know), and esteem him; and as for him, there is no doubt
that he praises me warmly, not only to my face, but to others also,
and not in the exaggerated manner in which some speak, but in earnest.
Tenducci is also here, Bach's dearest friend, and he expressed the
greatest delight at seeing me again. I must now tell you how I happen to
be at St. Germains. The Marechal de Noailles lives here, as you no
doubt know, (for I am told I was here fifteen years ago, though I
don't remember it.) Tenducci is a great favorite of his, and as he
is exceedingly partial to me, he was anxious to procure me this
acquaintance. I shall gain nothing here, a trifling present perhaps, but
at the same time I do not lose, for it costs me nothing; and even if I
do not get anything, still I have made an acquaintance that may be very
useful to me. I must make haste, for I am writing a scena for Tenducci,
which is to be given on Sunday; it is for pianoforte, hautboy, horn, and
bassoon, the performers being the Marechal's own people--Germans, who
play very well. I should like to have written to you long since, but
just as I had begun the letter (which is now lying in Paris) I was
obliged to drive to St. Germains, intending to return the same day, and
I have now been here a week. I shall return to Paris as soon as I can,
though I shall not lose much there by my absence, for I have now only
one pupil, the others being in the country. I could not write to you
from here either, because we were obliged to wait for an opportunity to
send a letter to Paris. I am quite well, thank God, and trust that both
of you are the same. You must have patience--all goes on slowly; I
must make friends. France is not unlike Germany in feeding people with
encomiums, and yet there is a good hope that, by means of your friends,
you may make your fortune. One lucky thing is, that food and lodging
cost me nothing. When you write to the friend with whom I am staying
[Herr Grimm], do not be too obsequious in your thanks. There are some
reasons for this which I will write to you some other time. The rest
of the sad history of the illness will follow in the next letter. You
desire to have a faithful portrait of Rothfischer? He is an attentive,
assiduous director, not a great genius, but I am very much pleased with
him, and, best of all, he is the kindest creature, with whom you can do
anything--if you know how to set about it, of course. He directs
better than Brunetti, but is not so good in solo-playing. He has more
execution, and plays well in his way, (a little in the old-fashioned
Tartini mode,) but Brunetti's style is more agreeable. The concertos
which he writes for himself are pretty and pleasant to listen to, and
also to play occasionally. Who can tell whether he may not please? At
all events, he plays a thousand million times better than Spitzeger,
and, as I already said, he directs well, and is active in his calling.
I recommend him to you heartily, for he is the most good-natured man!
Adieu!
113.
Paris, Sept. 11, 1778.
I HAVE received your three letters. I shall only reply to the last,
being the most important. When I read it, (Heina was with me and sends
you his regards,) I trembled with joy, for I fancied myself already in
your arms. True it is (and this you will yourself confess) that no
great stroke of good fortune awaits me; still, when I think of once more
embracing you and my dear sister, I care for no other advantage. This is
indeed the only excuse I can make to the people here, who are vociferous
that I should remain in Paris; but my reply invariably is, "What would
you have? I am content, and that is everything; I have now a place I can
call my home, and where I can live in peace and quiet with my excellent
father and beloved sister. I can do what I choose when not on duty. I
shall be my own master, and have a certain competency; I may leave when
I like, and travel every second year. What can I wish for more?" The
only thing that disgusts me with Salzburg, and I tell you of it just as
I feel it, is the impossibility of having any satisfactory intercourse
with the people, and that musicians are not in good repute there,
and--that the Archbishop places no faith in the experience of
intelligent persons who have seen the world. For I assure you that
people who do not travel (especially artists and scientific men) are but
poor creatures. And I at once say that if the Archbishop is not prepared
to allow me to travel every second year, I cannot possibly accept the
engagement. A man of moderate talent will never rise above mediocrity,
whether he travels or not, but a man of superior talents (which,
without being unthankful to Providence, I cannot deny that I possess)
deteriorates if he always remains in the same place. If the Archbishop
would only place confidence in me, I could soon make his music
celebrated; of this there can be no doubt. I also maintain that
my journey has not been unprofitable to me--I mean, with regard to
composition, for as to the piano, I play it as well as I ever shall. One
thing more I must settle about Salzburg, that I am not to take up the
violin as I formerly did. I will no longer conduct with the violin; I
intend to conduct, and also accompany airs, with the piano. It would
have been a good thing to have got a written agreement about the
situation of Capellmeister, for otherwise I may have the honor to
discharge a double duty, and be paid only for one, and at last be
superseded by some stranger. My dear father, I must decidedly say that
I really could not make up my mind to take this step were it not for the
pleasure of seeing you both again; I wish also to get away from Paris,
which I detest, though my affairs here begin to improve, and I don't
doubt that if I could bring myself to endure this place for a few years,
I could not fail to succeed. I am now pretty well known--that is, the
people all know ME, even if I don't know them. I acquired considerable
fame by my two symphonies; and (having heard that I was about to leave)
they now really want me to write an opera, so I said to Noverre, "If you
will be responsible for its BEING PERFORMED as soon as it is finished,
and will name the exact sum that I am to receive for it, I will remain
here for the next three months on purpose," for I could not at once
decline, or they would have thought that I distrusted myself. This was
not, however, done; and I knew beforehand that they could not do it,
for such is not the custom here. You probably know that in Paris it is
thus:--When the opera is finished it is rehearsed, and if these stupid
Frenchmen do not think it good it is not given, and the composer has
had all his trouble for nothing; if they approve, it is then put on the
stage; as its popularity increases, so does the rate of payment. There
is no certainty. I reserve the discussion of these matters till we meet,
but I must candidly say that my own affairs begin to prosper. It is no
use trying to hurry matters--chi va piano, va sano. My complaisance has
gained me both friends and patrons; were I to write you all, my fingers
would ache. I will relate it to you personally and place it clearly
before you. M. Grimm may be able to help CHILDREN, but not grown-up
people; and--but no, I had better not write on the subject. Yet I must!
Do not imagine that he is the same that he was; were it not for Madame
d'Epinay, I should be no longer in this house. And he has no great cause
to be so proud of his good deeds towards me, for there were four houses
where I could have had both board and lodging. The worthy man does not
know that, if I had remained in Paris, I intended to have left him next
month to go to a house that, unlike his, is neither stupid nor tiresome,
and where a man has not constantly thrown in his face that a kindness
has been done him. Such conduct is enough to cause me to forget a
benefit, but I will be more generous than he is. I regret not remaining
here only because I should have liked to show him that I do not require
him, and that I can do as much as his Piccini, although I am only
a German! The greatest service he has done me consists in fifteen
louis-d'or which he lent me bit by bit during my mother's life and
at her death. Is he afraid of losing them? If he has a doubt on the
subject, then he deserves to be kicked, for in that case he must
mistrust my honesty (which is the only thing that can rouse me to rage)
and also my talents; but the latter, indeed, I know he does, for he once
said to me that he did not believe I was capable of writing a French
opera. I mean to repay him his fifteen louis-d'or, with thanks, when I
go to take leave of him, accompanied by some polite expressions. My poor
mother often said to me, "I don't know why, but he seems to me somehow
changed." But I always took his part, though I secretly felt convinced
of the very same thing. He seldom spoke of me to any one, and when he
did, it was always in a stupid, injudicious, or disparaging way. He
was constantly urging me to go to see Piccini, and also Caribaldi,--for
there is a miserable opera buffa here,--but I always said, "No, I will
not go a single step," &c. In short, he is of the Italian faction; he is
insincere himself, and strives to crush me. This seems incredible, does
it not? But still such is the fact, and I give you the proof of it. I
opened my whole heart to him as a true friend, and a pretty use he made
of this! He always gave me bad advice, knowing that I would follow it;
but he only succeeded in two or three instances, and latterly I never
asked his opinion at all, and if he did advise me to do anything, I
never did it, but always appeared to acquiesce, that I might not subject
myself to further insolence on his part.
But enough of this; we can talk it over when we meet. At all events,
Madame d'Epinay has a better heart. The room I inhabit belongs to her,
not to him. It is the invalid's room--that is, if any one is ill in
the house, he is put there; it has nothing to recommend it except the
view,--only four bare walls, no chest of drawers--in fact, nothing. Now
you may judge whether I could stand it any longer. I would have written
this to you long ago, but feared you would not believe me. I can,
however, no longer be silent, whether you believe me or not; but you
do believe me, I feel sure. I have still sufficient credit with you to
persuade you that I speak the truth. I board too with Madame d'Epinay,
and you must not suppose that he pays anything towards it, but indeed I
cost her next to nothing. They have the same dinner whether I am there
or not, for they never know when I am to be at home, so they can make no
difference for me; and at night I eat fruit and drink one glass of wine.
All the time I have been in their house, now more than two months, I
have not dined with them more than fourteen times at most, and with the
exception of the fifteen louis-d'or, which I mean to repay with thanks,
he has no outlay whatever on my account but candles, and I should really
be ashamed of myself more than of him, were I to offer to supply these;
in fact I could not bring myself to say such a thing. This is my nature.
Recently, when he spoke to me in such a hard, senseless, and stupid way,
I had not nerve to say that he need not be alarmed about his fifteen
louis-d'or, because I was afraid of offending him; I only heard him
calmly to the end, when I asked whether he had said all he wished--and
then I was off! He presumes to say that I must leave this a week
hence--IN SUCH HASTE IS HE. I told him it was impossible, and my reasons
for saying so. "Oh! that does not matter; it is your father's wish."
"Excuse me, in his last letter he wrote that he would let me know in his
next when I was to set off." "At all events hold yourself in readiness
for your journey." But I must tell you plainly that it will be
impossible for me to leave this before the beginning of next month, or
at the soonest the end of the present one, for I have still six arias to
write, which will be well paid. I must also first get my money from Le
Gros and the Duc de Guines; and as the court goes to Munich the end of
this month, I should like to be there at the same time to present my
sonatas myself to the Electress, which perhaps might bring me a present.
I mean to sell my three concertos to the man who has printed them,
provided he gives me ready money for them; one is dedicated to Jenomy,
another to Litzau; the third is in B. I shall do the same with my
six difficult sonatas, if I can; even if not much, it is better than
nothing. Money is much wanted on a journey. As for the symphonies, most
of them are not according to the taste of the people here; if I have
time, I mean to arrange some violin concertos from them, and curtail
them; in Germany we rather like length, but after all it is better to be
short and good. In your next letter I shall no doubt find instructions
as to my journey; I only wish you had written to me alone, for I would
rather have nothing more to do with Grimm. I hope so, and in fact it
would be better, for no doubt our friends Geschwender and Heina can
arrange things better than this upstart Baron. Indeed, I am under
greater obligations to Heina than to him, look at it as you will by the
light of a farthing-candle. I expect a speedy reply to this, and shall
not leave Paris till it comes. I have no reason to hurry away, nor am I
here either in vain or fruitlessly, because I shut myself up and work,
in order to make as much money as possible. I have still a request,
which I hope you will not refuse. If it should so happen, though I hope
and believe it is not so, that the Webers are not in Munich, but still
at Mannheim, I wish to have the pleasure of going there to visit them.
It takes me, I own, rather out of my way, but not much--at all events it
does not appear much to me. I don't believe, after all, that it will
be necessary, for I think I shall meet them in Munich; but I shall
ascertain this to-morrow by a letter. If it is not the case, I feel
beforehand that you will not deny me this happiness. My dear father, if
the Archbishop wishes to have a new singer, I can, by heavens! find none
better than her. He will never get a Teyberin or a De' Amicis, and the
others are assuredly worse. I only lament that when people from Salzburg
flock to the next Carnival, and "Rosamunde" is given, Madlle. Weber
will not please, or at all events they will not be able to judge of her
merits as they deserve, for she has a miserable part, almost that of a
dumb personage, having only to sing some stanzas between the choruses.
She has one aria where something might be expected from the ritournelle;
the voice part is, however, alla Schweitzer, as if dogs were yelping.
There is only one air, a kind of rondo in the second act, where she has
an opportunity of sustaining her voice, and thus showing what she can
do. Unhappy indeed is the singer who falls into Schweitzer's hands; for
never while he lives will he learn how to write for the voice. When I
go to Salzburg I shall certainly not fail to plead zealously for my dear
friend; in the mean time you will not neglect doing all you can in her
favor, for you cannot cause your son greater joy. I think of nothing
now but the pleasure of soon embracing you. Pray see that everything
the Archbishop promised you is made quite secure, and also what I
stipulated, that my place should be at the piano. My kind regards to all
my friends, and to Herr Bullinger in particular. How merry shall we
be together! I have all this already in my thoughts, already before my
eyes. Adieu!
114.
Nancy, Oct. 3, 1778.
PRAY excuse my not having told you of my journey previous to leaving
Paris. But I really cannot describe to you the way in which the whole
affair was hurried forward, contrary to my expectations, wish, or
will. At the very last moment I wanted to send my luggage to Count
Sickingen's, instead of to the bureau of the diligence, and to remain
some days longer in Paris. This, I give you my honor, I should at once
have done had I not thought of you, for I did not wish to displease
you. We can talk of these matters better at Salzburg. But one thing
more--only fancy how Herr Grimm deceived me, saying that I was going by
the diligence, and should arrive at Strassburg in five days; and I did
not find out till the last day that it was quite another carriage, which
goes at a snail's pace, never changes horses, and is ten days on the
journey. You may easily conceive my rage; but I only gave way to it when
with my intimate friends, for in his presence I affected to be quite
merry and pleased. When I got into the carriage, I received the
agreeable information that we should be travelling for twelve days. So
this is an instance of Grimm's good sense! It was entirely to save money
that he sent me by this slow conveyance, not adverting to the fact that
the expense would amount to the same thing from the constant living at
inns. Well, it is now past. What vexed me most in the whole affair was
his not being straightforward with me. He spared his own money, but not
mine, as he paid for my journey, but not for my board. If I had stayed
eight or ten days longer in Paris, I could have paid my own journey, and
made it comfortably.
I submitted to this conveyance for eight days, but longer I could not
stand it--not on account of the fatigue, for the carriage was well hung,
but from want of sleep. We were off every morning at four o'clock, and
thus obliged to rise at three. Twice I had the satisfaction of being
forced to get up at one o'clock in the morning, as we were to set off at
two. You know that I cannot sleep in a carriage, so I really could not
continue this without the risk of being ill. I would have taken the
post, but it was not necessary, for I had the good fortune to meet with
a person who quite suited me--a German merchant who resides in Paris,
and deals in English wares. Before getting into the carriage we
exchanged a few words, and from that moment we remained together. We did
not take our meals with the other passengers, but in our own room,
where we also slept. I was glad to meet this man, for, being a great
traveller, he understands it well. He also was very much disgusted with
our carriage; so we proceed to-morrow by a good conveyance, which does
not cost us much, to Strassburg. You must excuse my not writing more,
but when I am in a town where I know no one, I am never in a good humor;
though I believe that if I had friends here I should like to remain,
for the town is indeed charming--handsome houses, spacious streets, and
superb squares.
I have one request to make, which is to give me a large chest in my room
that I may have all my things within my reach. I should like also
to have the little piano that Fischietti and Rust had, beside my
writing-table, as it suits me better than the small one of Stein. I
don't bring many new things of my own with me, for I have not composed
much. I have not yet got the three quartets and the flute concerto I
wrote for M. de Jean; for when he went to Paris he packed them in the
wrong trunk, so they are left at Mannheim. I can therefore bring nothing
finished with me except my sonatas [with violin]; M. Le Gros purchased
the two overtures from me and the sinfonie concertante, which he thinks
exclusively his own; but this is not the case, for I have it still fresh
in my head, and mean to write it out again as soon as I am at home.
The Munich company of comedians are, I conclude, now acting? [in
Salzburg.] Do they give satisfaction? Do people go to see them?
I suppose that, as for the operettas, the "Fischermadchen" ("La
Pescatrice" of Piccini), or "Das Bauernmadchen bei Hof" ("La Contadina
in Corte," by Sacchini), will be given first? The prima donna is, no
doubt, Madlle. Keiserin, whom I wrote to you about from Munich. I have
heard her, but do not know her. At that time it was only her third
appearance on any stage, and she had only learned music three weeks [see
No. 62]. Now farewell! I shall not have a moment's peace till I once
more see those I love.
115.
Strassburg, Oct. 15, 1778.
I GOT your three letters safely, but could not possibly answer them
sooner. What you write about M. Grimm, I, of course, know better than
you can do. That he was all courtesy and civility I do not deny; indeed,
had this not been the case, I would not have stood on such ceremony
with him. All that I owe M. Grimm is fifteen louis-d'or, and he has only
himself to blame for their not being repaid, and this I told him. But
what avails any discussion? We can talk it over at Salzburg. I am very
much obliged to you for having put my case so strongly before Father
Martini, and also for having written about me to M. Raaff. I never
doubted your doing so, for I am well aware that it rejoices you to see
your son happy and pleased, and you know that I could never be more so
than in Munich; being so near Salzburg, I could constantly visit you.
That Madlle. Weber, or rather MY DEAR WEBERIN, should now receive a
salary, and justice be at last done to her merits, rejoices me to a
degree natural in one who feels such deep interest in all that concerns
her. I still warmly recommend her to you; though I must now, alas! give
up all hope of what I so much wished,--her getting an engagement in
Salzburg,--for the Archbishop would never give her the salary she now
has. All we can now hope for is that she may sometimes come to Salzburg
to sing in an opera. I had a hurried letter from her father the day
before they went to Munich, in which he also mentions this news. These
poor people were in the greatest distress about me, fearing that I must
be dead, a whole month having elapsed without any letter from me, (owing
to the last one being lost;) an idea that was confirmed by a report in
Mannheim that my poor dear mother had died of a contagious disease. So
they have been all praying for my soul. The poor girl went every day for
this purpose into the Capuchin church. Perhaps you may laugh at this? I
did not; on the contrary, I could not help being much touched by it.
To proceed. I think I shall certainly go by Stuttgart to Augsburg,
because I see by your letter that nothing, or at least not much, is to
be made in Donaueschingen; but I will apprise you of all this before
leaving Strassburg. Dearest father, I do assure you that, were it not
for the pleasure of soon embracing you, I would never come to Salzburg;
for, with the exception of this commendable and delightful impulse, I
am really committing the greatest folly in the world. Rest assured
that these are my own thoughts, and not borrowed from others. When my
resolution to leave Paris was known, certain facts were placed before
me, and the sole weapons I had to contend against or to conquer these,
were my true and tender love for my kind father, which could not be
otherwise than laudable in their eyes, but with the remark that if my
father had known my present circumstances and fair prospects, (and had
not got different and false impressions by means of a kind friend,) he
certainly would not have written to me in such a strain as to render me
wholly incapable of offering the least resistance to his wish; and in my
own mind I thought, that had I not been exposed to so much annoyance
in the house where I lived, and the journey come on me like a sudden
thunder-clap, leaving me no time to reflect coolly on the subject, I
should have earnestly besought you to have patience for a time, and to
let me remain a little longer in Paris. I do assure you that I should
have succeeded in gaining fame, honor, and wealth, and been thus enabled
to defray your debts. But now it is settled, and do not for a moment
suppose that I regret it; but you alone, dearest father, you alone can
sweeten the bitterness of Salzburg for me; and that you will do so,
I feel convinced. I must also candidly say that I should arrive in
Salzburg with a lighter heart were it not for my official capacity
there, for this thought is to me the most intolerable of all. Reflect on
it yourself, place yourself in my position. At Salzburg I never know how
I stand; at one time I am everything, at another absolutely nothing.
I neither desire SO MUCH nor SO LITTLE, but still I wish to be
SOMETHING--if indeed I am something! In every other place I know what my
duties are. Elsewhere those who undertake the violin stick to it,--the
same with the piano, &c., &c. I trust this will be regulated hereafter,
so that all may turn out well and for my happiness and satisfaction. I
rely wholly on you.
Things here are in a poor state; but the day after to-morrow, Saturday
the 17th, I MYSELF ALONE, (to save expense,) to please some kind
friends, amateurs, and connoisseurs, intend to give a subscription
concert. If I engaged an orchestra, it would with the lighting cost me
more than three louis-d'or, and who knows whether we shall get as
much? My sonatas are not yet published, though promised for the end of
September. Such is the effect of not looking after things yourself, for
which that obstinate Grimm is also to blame. They will probably be full
of mistakes, not being able to revise them myself, for I was obliged
to devolve the task on another, and I shall be without my sonatas in
Munich. Such an occurrence, though apparently a trifle, may often bring
success, honor, and wealth, or, on the other hand, misfortune.
116.
Strassburg, Oct. 20, 1778.
You will perceive that I am still here, by the advice of Herr Frank and
other Strassburg magnates, but I leave this to-morrow. In my last
letter I mentioned that on the 17th I was to give a kind of sample of
a concert, as concerts here fare worse than even at Salzburg. It is, of
course, over. I played quite alone, having engaged no musicians, so that
I might at least lose nothing; briefly, I took three louis-d'or. The
chief receipts consisted in the shouts of Bravo! and Bravissimo! which
echoed on every side. Prince Max of Zweibrucken also honored the concert
by his presence. I need not tell you that every one was pleased. I
intended then to pursue my journey, but was advised to stay till the
following Saturday, in order to give a grand concert in the theatre.
I did so, and, to the surprise, indignation, and disgrace of all the
Strassburgers, my receipts were exactly the same. The Director, M. de
Villeneuve, abused the inhabitants of this most detestable town in the
most unmeasured terms. I took a little more money, certainly, but
the cost of the band (which is very bad, but its pay very good), the
lighting, printing, the guard at the door, and the check-takers at the
entrances, &c., made up a considerable sum. Still I must tell you that
the applause and clapping of hands almost deafened me, and made my ears
ache; it was as if the whole theatre had gone crazy. Those who were
present, loudly and publicly denounced their fellow-citizens, and I told
them all that if I could have reasonably supposed so few people would
have come, I would gladly have given the concert gratis, merely for the
pleasure of seeing the theatre well filled. And in truth I should have
preferred it, for, upon my word, I don't know a more desolate sight than
a long table laid for fifty, and only three at dinner. Besides, it was
so cold; but I soon warmed myself, for, to show the Strassburg gentlemen
how little I cared, I played a very long time for my own amusement,
giving a concerto more than I had promised, and, at the close,
extemporizing. It is now over, but at all events I gained honor and
fame.
I have drawn on Herr Scherz for eight louis-d'or, as a precaution, for
no one can tell what may happen on a journey; and I HAVE is better than
I MIGHT HAVE HAD. I have read the fatherly well-meaning letter which you
wrote to M. Frank when in such anxiety about me. [Footnote: "Your sister
and I confessed, and took the Holy Communion," writes the father, "and
prayed to God fervently for your recovery. Our excellent Bullinger
prays daily for you also."] When I wrote to you from Nancy, not knowing
myself, you of course could not know, that I should have to wait so
long for a good opportunity. Your mind may be quite at ease about the
merchant with whom I am travelling; he is the most upright man in the
world, takes more care of me than of himself, and, entirely to oblige
me, is to go with me to Augsburg and Munich, and possibly even to
Salzburg. We actually shed tears when we think that we must separate. He
is not a learned man, but a man of experience, and we live together
like children. When he thinks of his wife and family whom he has left in
Paris, I try to comfort him, and when I think of my own people he speaks
comfort to me.
On the 31st of October, my name-day, I amused myself (and, better still,
others) for a couple of hours. At the repeated entreaties of Herr Frank,
de Berger, &c., &c., I gave another concert, by which, after paying the
expenses, (not heavy this time,) I actually cleared a louis-d'or! Now
you see what Strassburg is! I wrote at the beginning of this letter that
I was to leave this on the 27th or 28th, but it proved impossible, owing
to a sudden inundation here, when the floods caused great damage. You
will probably see this in the papers. Of course travelling was out of
the question, which was the only thing that induced me to consent to
give another concert, being obliged to remain at all events.
To-morrow I go by the diligence to Mannheim. Do not be startled at this.
In foreign countries it is expedient to follow the advice of those who
know from experience what ought to be done. Most of the strangers who
go to Stuttgart (N.B., by the diligence) do not object to this detour of
eight hours, because the road is better and also the conveyance. I
must now, dearest father, cordially wish you joy of your approaching
name-day. My kind father, I wish you from my heart all that a son can
wish for a good father, whom he so highly esteems and dearly loves. I
thank the Almighty that He has permitted you again to pass this day in
the enjoyment of perfect health, and implore from Him the boon, that
during the whole of my life (and I hope to live for a good many years to
come) I may be able to congratulate you every year. However strange,
and perhaps ridiculous, this wish may seem to you, I do assure you it is
both sincere and well-intended.
I hope you received my last letter from Strassburg. I wish to write
nothing further of M. Grimm, but it is entirely owing to his stupidity
in pressing forward my departure so much, that my sonatas are not yet
engraved, or at all events that I have not got them, and when I do I
shall probably find them full of mistakes. If I had only stayed three
days longer in Paris, I could have revised them myself and brought them
with me. The engraver was desperate when I told him that I could not
correct them, but must commission someone else to do so. Why? Because,
being resolved not to be three days longer in the same house with Grimm,
I told him that on account of the sonatas I was going to stay with Count
Sickingen, when he replied, his eyes sparkling with rage, "If you leave
my house before you leave Paris, I will never in my life see you again.
In that case do not presume ever to come near me, and look on me as your
bitterest enemy." Self-control was indeed very necessary. Had it not
been for your sake, who knew nothing about the matter, I certainly
should have replied, "Be my enemy; by all means be so. You are so
already, or you would not have prevented me putting my affairs in order
here, which would have enabled me to keep my word, to preserve my honor
and reputation, and also to make money, and probably a lucky hit; for if
I present my sonatas to the Electress when I go to Munich, I shall
thus keep my promise, probably receive a present, and make my fortune
besides." But as it was, I only bowed, and left the room without saying
a syllable. Before quitting Paris, however, I said all this to him,
but he answered me like a man totally devoid of sense, or rather like
a malicious man who affects to have none. I have written twice to Herr
Heina, but have got no answer. The sonatas ought to have appeared by the
end of September, and M. Grimm was to have forwarded the promised copies
immediately to me, so I expected to have found them in Strassburg; but
M. Grimm writes to me that he neither hears nor sees anything of them,
but as soon as he does they are to be forwarded, and I hope to have them
ere long.
Strassburg can scarcely do without me. You cannot think how much I am
esteemed and beloved here. People say that I am disinterested as well as
steady and polite, and praise my manners. Every one knows me. As soon
as they heard my name, the two Herrn Silbermann and Herr Hepp (organist)
came to call on me, and also Capellmeister Richter. He has now
restricted himself very much; instead of forty bottles of wine a day,
he only drinks twenty! I played publicly on the two best organs that
Silbermann has here, in the Lutheran and New Churches, and in the Thomas
Church. If the Cardinal had died, (and he was very ill when I arrived,)
I might have got a good situation, for Herr Richter is seventy-eight
years of age. Now farewell! Be cheerful and in good spirits, and
remember that your son is, thank God! well, and rejoicing that his
happiness daily draws nearer. Last Sunday I heard a new mass of Herr
Richter's, which is charmingly written.
117.
Mannheim, November 12, 1778.
I arrived here safely on the 6th, agreeably surprising all my kind
friends. God be praised that I am once more in my beloved Mannheim!
I assure you, if you were here you would say the same. I am living at
Madame Cannabich's, who, as well as her family and all my good friends
here, was quite beside herself with joy at seeing me again. We have not
yet done talking, for she tells me of all the events and changes that
have taken place during my absence. I have not been able to dine once at
home since I came, for people are fighting to have me; in a word, just
as I love Mannheim, so Mannheim loves me; and, though of course I don't
know it positively, still I do think it possible that I may get an
appointment here. But HERE, not in Munich, for my own belief is that the
Elector will soon once more take up his residence in Mannheim, for he
surely cannot long submit to the coarseness of the Bavarian gentlemen.
You know that the Mannheim company is in Munich. There they hissed the
two best actresses, Madame Toscani and Madame Urban. There was such
an uproar that the Elector himself leant over his box and called out,
"Hush!" To this, however, no one paid any attention; so he sent down
Count Seeau, who told some of the officers not to make such a noise, as
the Elector did not like it; but the only answer he got was, that they
had paid their money, and no man had a right to give them any orders.
But what a simpleton I am! You no doubt have heard this long ago through
our....
I have now something to say. I may PERHAPS make forty louis-d'or here.
To be sure, I should have to stay six weeks, or at most two months, in
Mannheim. Seiler's company is here, whom you no doubt already know by
reputation. Herr von Dalberg is the director. He will not hear of my
leaving this till I have written a duodrama for him, and indeed I did
not long hesitate, for I have often wished to write this style of drama.
I forget if I wrote to you about it the first time that I was here.
Twice at that time I saw a similar piece performed, which afforded me
the greatest pleasure; in fact, nothing ever surprised me so much, for
I had always imagined that a thing of this kind would make no effect. Of
course you know that there is no singing in it, but merely recitation,
to which the music is a sort of obligato recitativo. At intervals there
is speaking while the music goes on, which produces the most striking
effect. What I saw was Benda's "Medea." He also wrote another, "Ariadne
auf Naxos," and both are truly admirable. You are aware that of all the
Lutheran Capellmeisters Benda was always my favorite, and I like those
two works of his so much that I constantly carry them about with me.
Conceive my joy at now composing the very thing I so much wished! Do you
know what my idea is?--that most operatic recitatives should be treated
in this way, and the recitative only occasionally sung WHEN THE WORDS
CAN BE THOROUGHLY EXPRESSED BY THE MUSIC. An Academie des Amateurs is
about to be established here, like the one in Paris, where Herr Franzl
is violin leader, and I am at this moment writing a concerto for violin
and piano. I found my dear friend Raaff still here, but he leaves this
on the 8th. He has sounded my praises here, and shown sincere interest
in me, and I hope he will do the same in Munich. Do you know what that
confounded fellow Seeau said here?--that my opera buffa had been hissed
at Munich! Fortunately he said so in a place where I am well known;
still, his audacity provokes me; but the people, when they go to Munich,
will hear the exact reverse. A whole flock of Bavarians are here, among
others Fraulein de Pauli (for I don't know her present name). I
have been to see her because she sent for me immediately. Oh! what a
difference there is between the people of the Palatinate and those
of Bavaria! What a language it is! so coarse! and their whole mode of
address! It quite annoys me to hear once more their hoben and olles
(haben and alles), and their WORSHIPFUL SIR. Now good-bye! and pray
write to me soon. Put only my name, for they know where I am at the
post-office. I am so well known here that it is impossible a letter for
me can be lost. My cousin wrote to me, and by mistake put Franconian
Hotel instead of Palatine Hotel. The landlord immediately sent the
letter to M. Serrarius's, where I lodged when I was last here. What
rejoices me most of all in the whole Mannheim and Munich story is that
Weber has managed his affairs so well. They have now 1600 florins;
for the daughter has 1000 florins and her father 400, and 200 more as
prompter. Cannabich did the most for them. It is quite a history about
Count Seeau; if you don't know it, I will write you the details next
time.
I beg, dearest father, that you will make use of this affair at
Salzburg, and speak so strongly and so decidedly, that the Archbishop
may think it possible I may not come after all, and thus be induced
to give me a better salary, for I declare I cannot think of it with
composure. The Archbishop cannot pay me sufficiently for the slavery of
Salzburg. As I said before, I feel the greatest pleasure at the thought
of paying you a visit, but only annoyance and misery in seeing myself
once more at that beggarly court. The Archbishop must no longer attempt
to play the great man with me as he used to do, or I may possibly play
him a trick,--this is by no means unlikely,--and I am sure that you
would participate in my satisfaction.
118.
Mannheim, Nov. 24, 1778.