P.S.--Write to me forthwith to Munich, Poste Restante, a little note of
twenty-four pages, but do not mention where you are to lodge, that I may
not find you out nor you me.
122.
Munich, Dec. 29, 1778.
I WRITE from the house of M. Becke [flute-player; see No. 60]. I arrived
here safely, God be praised! on the 25th, but have been unable to write
to you till now. I reserve everything till our glad, joyous meeting,
when I can once more have the happiness of conversing with you, for
to-day I can only weep. I have far too sensitive a heart. In the mean
time, I must tell you that the day before I left Kaisersheim I received
the sonatas; so I shall be able to present them myself to the Electress.
I only delay leaving this till the opera [Footnote: Schweitzer's
"Alceste." (See No. 120.)] is given, when I intend immediately to leave
Munich, unless I were to find that it would be very beneficial and
useful to me to remain here for some time longer. In which case I feel
convinced, quite convinced, that you would not only be satisfied I
should do so, but would yourself advise it. I naturally write very
badly, for I never learned to write; still, in my whole life I never
wrote worse than this very day, for I really am unfit for anything--my
heart is too full of tears. I hope you will soon write to me and comfort
me. Address to me, Poste Restante, and then I can fetch the letter
myself. I am staying with the Webers. I think, after all, it would be
better, far better, to enclose your letter to me to our friend Becke.
I intend (I mention it to you in the strictest secrecy) to write a mass
here; all my best friends advise my doing so. I cannot tell you what
friends Cannabich and Raaff have been to me. Now farewell, my kindest
and most beloved father! Write to me soon.
A happy new-year! More I cannot bring myself to write to-day. This
letter is scrawled hurriedly, quite unlike the others, and betrays
the most violent agitation of mind. During the whole journey there was
nothing to which Mozart looked forward with such joy as once more seeing
his beloved Madlle. Weber in Munich. He had even destined "a great part"
for the Basle (his cousin) in the affair; but he was now to learn that
Aloysia had been faithless to him. Nissen relates: "Mozart, being in
mourning for his mother, appeared dressed, according to the French
custom, in a red coat with black buttons; but soon discovered that
Aloysia's feelings towards him had undergone a change. She seemed
scarcely to recognize one for whose sake she had once shed so many
tears. On which Mozart quickly seated himself at the piano and sang,
"Ich lass das Madel gern das mich nicht will," ["I gladly give up the
girl who slights me."] His father, moreover, was displeased in the
highest degree by Wolfgang's protracted absence, fearing that the
Archbishop might recall his appointment; so Wolfgang became very uneasy
lest he should not meet with a kind reception from his father on his
return home."
123.
Munich, Dec. 31, 1778.
I HAVE this instant received your latter from my friend Becke. I wrote
to you from his house two days ago, but a letter such as I never wrote
before; for this kind friend said so much to me about your tender
paternal love, your indulgence towards me, your complaisance and
discretion in the promotion of my future happiness, that my feelings
were softened even to tears. But, from your letter of the 28th, I see
only too clearly that Herr Becke, in his conversation with me, rather
exaggerated. Now, distinctly, and once for all, as soon as the opera
("Alceste") is given, I intend to leave this, whether the diligence goes
the day after or the same night. If you had spoken to Madame Robinig, I
might have travelled home with her. But be that as it may, the opera is
to be given on the 11th, and on the 12th (if the diligence goes) I set
off. It would be more for my interest to stay here a little longer, but
I am willing to sacrifice this to you, in the hope that I shall have
a twofold reward for it in Salzburg. I don't think your idea about the
sonatas at all good; even if I do not get them, I ought to leave Munich
forthwith. Then you advise my not being seen at court; to a man so well
known as I am here such a thing is impossible. But do not be uneasy. I
received my sonatas at Kaisersheim; and, as soon as they are bound, I
mean to present them to the Electress. A. propos, what do you mean by
DREAMS OF PLEASURE? I do not wish to give up dreaming, for what mortal
on the whole compass of the earth does not often dream? above all DREAMS
OF PLEASURE--peaceful dreams, sweet, cheering dreams if you will--dreams
which, if realized, would have rendered my life (now far rather sad than
pleasurable) more endurable.
The 1st.--I have this moment received, through a Salzburg vetturino, a
letter from you, which really at first quite startled me. For Heaven's
sake tell me, do you really think that I can at once fix a day for my
journey; or is it your belief that I don't mean to come at all? When I
am so very near, I do think you might be at ease on that point. When the
fellow had explained his route to me, I felt a strong inclination to go
with him, but at present I really cannot; to-morrow or next day I
intend to present the sonatas to the Electress, and then (no matter how
strongly I may be urged) I must wait a few days for a present. Of one
thing I give you my word, that to please you I have resolved not to wait
to see the opera, but intend to leave this the day after I receive the
present I expect. At the same time I confess I feel this to be very hard
on me; but if a few days more or less appear of such importance to you,
so let it be. Write to me at once on this point. The 2d.--I rejoice at
the thoughts of conversing with you, for then you will first comprehend
how my matters stand here. You need have neither mistrust nor misgivings
as to Raaff, for he is the most upright man in the world, though no
lover of letter-writing. The chief cause of his silence, however, is no
doubt that he is unwilling to make premature promises, and yet is glad
to hold out some hope too; besides, like Cannabich, he has worked for me
with might and main.
124.
Munich, Jan. 8, 1779.
[Footnote: The second grand aria that Mozart wrote for Aloysia, bears
the same date.]
I HOPE you received my last letter, which I meant to have given to the
vetturino, but having missed him I sent it by post. I have, in the mean
time, got all your letters safely through Herr Becke. I gave him my
letter to read, and he also showed me his. I assure you, my very dear
father, that I am now full of joy at returning to you, (but not to
Salzburg,) as your last letter shows that you know me better than
formerly. There never was any other cause for my long delay in going
home but this doubt, which gave rise to a feeling of sadness that I
could no longer conceal; so I at last opened my heart to my friend
Becke. What other cause could I possibly have? I have done nothing to
cause me to dread reproach from you; I am guilty of no fault; (by
a fault I mean that which does not become a Christian, and a man of
honor;) in short, I now rejoice, and already look forward to the most
agreeable and happy days, but only in the society of yourself and my
dear sister. I give you my solemn word of honor that I cannot endure
Salzburg or its inhabitants, (I speak of the natives of Salzburg.) Their
language, their manners, are to me quite intolerable. You cannot think
what I suffered during Madame Robinig's visit here, for it is long
indeed since I met with such a fool; and, for my still further
annoyance, that silly, deadly dull Mosmayer was also there.
But to proceed. I went yesterday, with my dear friend Cannabich, to
the Electress to present my sonatas. Her apartments are exactly what I
should like mine one day to be, very pretty and neat, just like those of
a private individual, all except the view, which is miserable. We
were there fully an hour and a half, and she was very gracious. I have
managed to let her know that I must leave this in a few days, which
will, I hope, expedite matters. You have no cause to be uneasy about
Count Seeau; I don't believe the thing will come through his hands, and
even if it does, he will not venture to say a word. Now, once for all,
believe that I have the most eager longing to embrace you and my beloved
sister. If it were only not in Salzburg! But as I have not hitherto been
able to see you without going to Salzburg, I do so gladly. I must make
haste, for the post is just going.
My cousin is here. Why? To please me, her cousin; this is, indeed, the
ostensible cause. But--we can talk about it in Salzburg; and, on this
account, I wished very much that she would come with me there. You will
find a few lines, written by her own hand, attached to the fourth page
of this letter. She is quite willing to go; so if it would really give
you pleasure to see her, be so kind as to write immediately to her
brother, that the thing may be arranged. When you see her and know her,
she is certain to please you, for she is a favorite with every one.
Wolfgang's pleasantries, in the following; letter to his cousin, show
that his good humor was fully restored. He was received at home with
very great rejoicings, and his cousin soon followed him.
125.
Salzburg, May 10, 1779.
DEAREST, sweetest, most beauteous, fascinating, and charming of all
cousins, most basely maltreated by an unworthy kinsman! Allow me to
strive to soften and appease your just wrath, which only heightens your
charms and winning beauty, as high as the heel of your slipper! I hope
to soften you, Nature having bestowed on me a large amount of softness,
and to appease you, being fond of sweet pease. As to the Leipzig affair,
I can't tell whether it may be worth stooping to pick up; were it a bag
of ringing coin, it would be a very different thing, and nothing less do
I mean to accept, so there is an end of it.
Sweetest cousin, such is life! One man has got a purse, but another has
got the money, and he who has neither has nothing; and nothing is even
less than little; while, on the other hand, much is a great deal more
than nothing, and nothing can come of nothing. Thus has it been from the
beginning, is now, and ever shall be; and as I can make it neither
worse nor better, I may as well conclude my letter. The gods know I am
sincere. How does Probst get on with his wife? and do they live in
bliss or in strife? most silly questions, upon my life! Adieu, angel!
My father sends you his uncle's blessing, and a thousand cousinly kisses
from my sister. Angel, adieu!
A TENDER ODE. [Footnote: A parody of Klopstock's "Dein susses Bild,
Edone"]