to the well-being of his son. He foresaw that the profits of the journey
would hardly cover its expenses, and that he must arrange to have a sum
always in hand in case of emergencies. He had no private property; the
profits of the first journey had already disappeared; he was obliged
to borrow, and debt was abhorrent to so conscientious a man; but his
friends Hagenauer and Bullinger readily came to his assistance. He not
only cut down to their lowest point the expenses of his housekeeping
with Nannerl, but he undertook once more "the very uncongenial work of
giving lessons," badly paid and fatiguing as it was. A father who made
such sacrifices for his son had a right to demand in return, not indeed
filial love, and the gaining of artistic fame--that came freely and
spontaneously--but a degree of prudence and forethought which should
suffice for the demands of practical life. "I have, my dear Wolfgang,"
he says (February 16, 1778), "not only not the smallest mistrust in you,
but I place all confidence and all hope in your future. It all depends
on the sound good sense which you certainly possess, if you would only
pay heed to it, and on fortunate circumstances. These last are not to be
forced, but you can always take sense to your counsel, and that I hope
and pray you will."
Thus was everything planned and prepared, the necessary means were
provided, the outfit purchased, and a carriage
{MUNICH AND AUGSBURG.}
(350)
in readiness which would contain the two travellers and their luggage,
clothes, and instruments. This was the approved method of travelling at
that time, and Leopold Mozart was determined to send his son forth into
the world, not as an itinerant musician, but as an artist commanding
respect and honourable treatment, even from his outward surroundings.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Messages and birthday congratulations to the servant-maids were
never forgotten in his letters home. When Wolfgang was expected home
from Paris, Theresa, the cook, sent word to him repeatedly how many
capons she was preparing in his honour.]
[Footnote 2: Besides the canary which Wolfgang constantly alludes to in his
letters, the dog, Wimperl, was always tenderly inquired after.]
[Footnote 3: J. Mayr, Die ehem. Univ. Salzburg, p. 12.]
[Footnote 4: Cf. the account of these two in K. R[isbeck], Briefe eines reisenden
Franzosen über Deutschland, 1784, I., p. 155; and for Count Zeil see
(Footnote Koch-Shernfeld), Die letzten dreissig Jahre des Erzstiftes Salzburg, p.
40.]
[Footnote 5: K. R[isbeck], Briefe, I., p. 156. [Koch-Stemfeld] Die letzten
dreissig Jahre des Erzstiftes Salzburg, p. 256.]
[Footnote 6: Wolfgang said he knew a Salzburger who complained that he could not
see Paris properly, because the houses were too high.]
[Footnote 7: Wolfgang wrote to his sister from Milan that he had learnt a new
language; it was rather childish, but good enough for Salzburg. He wrote
to Bullinger (August 7,1778) that he could not possibly be happy in
Salzburg, where there was no society; and to his father (January 8,
1779): "I assure you solemnly that I cannot endure the Salzburgers (I
mean the natives of Salzburg); their speech and manners are odious to
me."]
[Footnote 8: Literar. Anekd. auf e. Reise durch Deutschland (Frkf., 1790), p.
228. K. R[isbeck], Briefe, I., p. 159. [Koch-Sternfeld] Die letzten
dreissig Jahre. p. 157.]
[Footnote 9: K. R[isbeck], Briefe, I., p. 157. [Koch-Sternfeld] p. 157.]
[Footnote 10: K. R[isbeck], I., p. 159.]
[Footnote 11: For a more detailed account see [Koch-Sternfeld] p. 28.]
[Footnote 12: cf., p. 237.]
[Footnote 13: Burney, Reise, II., p. 77.]
[Footnote 14: Burney, Reise, II., p. 57. Cf. Thayer, Beethoven's Leben, I., p. 60,
311.]
[Footnote 15: Burney, Reise, III., p. 275. "The musicians in almost every town
are envious of each other, and all unite in envying the Italians who
settle in the country. It must be acknowledged that the Italians are
caressed and flattered, and often receive twice as high a salary as
native musicians of greater merit."]
[Footnote 16: [Koch-Stemfeld] Die letzten dreissig Jahre, p. 233.]
[Footnote 17: Burney, Reise, III., p. 260, following a correspondent, who was not
very much prepossessed by Mozart (p. 139).]
[Footnote 18: Schubart, Aesthet., p. 157. Koch-Stemfeld, p. 255: "The court music
was good, but not so good as under Archbishop Sigismund, when it was
comparatively better paid."]
[Footnote 19: Meissner was one of the Archbishop's favourites, and yet even he
was told by the court chamberlain, when a cold prevented his singing,
that he must sing and attend to the service, or he would be dismissed.
"Such is the reward of favourites of the great!" (L. Mozart, October 6,
1777.)]
[Footnote 20: Cf., p. 26, 42, 72.]
[Footnote 21: [Koch-Stemfeld], p. 44: "When the proclamation, 'Hieronymus!'
reached the expectant crowd from the balcony of the palace, the people
could not believe their ears. As the solemn procession, with the newly
elected ruler, pale and sickly in its midst, filed into the cathedral
for the Te Deum, a dead silence reigned. It was a fair-day. An urchin in
the midst of the gazing throng gave a huzza, and received a box on the
ear from a merchant standing near, with the words, 'Boy, dost thou
shout when all the people weep?' The voice of the people, on which the
prosperity of a prince so much depends, was never more plainly
heard. Hieronymus felt it deeply; many similar expressions in private
conversations were reported to him, and many invitations to court were
discontinued for long."]
[Footnote 22: K. R[isbeck], Briefe eines reisenden Franzosen, I., p. 158: "As far
as head goes there could not be a better ruler, but as to heart--I
do not know. He knows that he is unpopular with the Salzburgers, and
despises and avoids them in consequence."]
[Footnote 23: The following description is taken from [Koch-Sternfeld], p. 312.]
[Footnote 24: "I did not venture to contradict," writes Wolfgang to his father
(February 19,1778), "because I had come straight from Salzburg, where
one gets out of the habit of contradicting."]
[Footnote 25: [Koch-Sternfeld], p. 43.]
[Footnote 26: [Koch-Sternfeld], p. 313.]
[Footnote 27: Wolfgang writes ironically to his father from Mannheim (November
4, 1777): "I played my concerto to him (Ramm) at Cannabich's, on the
pianoforte, and although it was known to be mine, it pleased very much.
Nobody said that it was not well arranged; no doubt because the people
here know nothing about such things; they should ask the Archbishop--he
would set them right at once."]
====
MOZART
BY DAVID WIDGER
CHAPTER XVI. MUNICH AND AUGSBURG.
EARLY on the morning of September 23,1777, Wolfgang and his mother took
their departure from Salzburg, leaving L. Mozart far from well, and
inconsolable in his solitude.
"After you had set off," he wrote (September 25, 1777), "I went upstairs
quite exhausted, and threw myself on a couch. It was with a great effort
that I had restrained myself at parting, in order not to add to our
grief, and in the confusion I had forgotten to give my son the paternal
blessing. I ran to the window and sent it after you both; but as I did
not see you drive through the gate, I came to the conclusion that you
had already passed, and that I had sat immersed in my grief longer than
I supposed." Nannerl wept till she made herself ill, and did not recover
till the evening, when the two consoled themselves with a game of
piquet.
Wolfgang, on the contrary, breathed more freely as soon as he had
turned his back upon Salzburg; the feeling of relief from the galling
oppression of years dispelled the sorrow of parting with his father
and sister. In his former journeys he had experienced nothing but
encouragement and success, and had been shielded from all the harassing
cares of ordinary life; and so he took his way with artless confidence
into the wide world. He little dreamt that he had in fact made the
first step along a thorny path, to be met from henceforth to the end by
difficulty, opposition, pain, and sorrow.
{MUNICH, 1777.}
(351)
His mind was fresh and youthful enough to be diverted by all the little
incidents of such a journey. When he sat down in the evening, "_undecima
hora noctis_," at Wasserburg, to acquaint his father of their safe
arrival, he could think of nothing more important to tell him than of
their having seen a cow "all on one side." He had met a fat gentleman
who remembered having seen Wolfgang a year ago during a performance of
"Mirabell"; he was in company with Herr von Unhold, of Memmingen, and
they both sent their compliments to Wolfgang's father and sister. It is
plain that the boy rejoiced in the feeling of freedom and independence:
"_Viviamo come i principi_, and want nothing but my dear father; but
it is God's will, and all will go well. I hope you will be well and as
contented as I am. I am getting quite expert, and, like another papa,
taking care of everything. I have always to pay the postilions, for
I can talk to the fellows better than mamma. Pray take care of your
health, my dear father."
Their first stay was at Munich. The state of affairs there, coupled with
their former failure, gave little hope of a prosperous visit; but it
was necessary to make the attempt. Furnished with his diplomas of the
Academies of Bologna and Verona, and with recommendations from Padre
Martini, Wolfgang might present himself before the Elector Maximilian as
a thoroughly trained musician; and might hope to gain such favour from
influential patrons as would justify his undertaking new works. They
took up their abode with their old acquaintance Albert,[1] known as "the
learned host." Wolfgang's first visit was to Count Seeau, the inspector
of plays.[2] He met with a friendly reception, and was advised by the
Count to seek an audience of the Elector without delay, and if he
did not succeed, to address him by letter; there was no doubt that a
first-rate composer was wanted in Munich.
Wolfgang next paid his respects to the Prince Bishop of Chiemsee, Count
Zeil, who was residing in Munich on a
{MUNICH AND AUGSBURG.}
(352)
diplomatic mission. He conversed freely on Mozart's plans, and promised
to do his best for him with the Elector and his consort. But some days
later the Bishop said to him, "very politely" (September 29,1777): "I do
not think you will do much here. I spoke privately on the subject to the
Elector at Nymphenburg, and he answered, 'It is too soon yet, let him
travel in Italy, and make himself a name; I do not refuse anything, but
it is too soon yet.'" The Electress promised to do what she could, but
"shrugged her shoulders," and doubted of success.
These unfavourable prognostics were justified when Mozart, introduced by
the influential violoncellist, Frz. Xav. Wo-schitka (b. 1730), presented
himself to the Elector, who was on the point of going hunting with his
court. He gives the following account of the interview to his father
(September 30, 1777)--
When the Elector approached me I said: "I trust your highness will allow
me to lay myself and my services at your highness's feet." "Indeed! have
you left Salzburg altogether?" "Altogether, your highness." "Inded!
Why? Were you kept too close?" "May it please your highness, I asked
permission to travel, which was refused, whereupon I took a step which
had long been in my mind, for Salzburg is no place for me, that
is certain." "_Mein Gott_, young man! But your father is still at
Salzburg?" "Yes, may it please your highness; he lays his humble duty,
&c. I have been in Italy three times already, have written three operas,
and been elected Member of the Academy at Bologna, after writing a trial
composition in one hour which usually takes candidates four or five
hours of hard labour; all this proves that I am in a position to serve
any court. My greatest wish is to serve your highness, who is himself
a great"--"Yes, my dear fellow, but I have no vacancy." "I assure your
highness that I should do honour to Munich." "No doubt, no doubt; but
there is no vacancy." This he said as he was going, and I could only
take my humble leave.
The Elector being unable, as L. Mozart was aware, to engage any one
unless there were a vacancy, no court office could be looked for at
Munich, but there seemed fair prospects of an assured position in
another direction. Count Seeau had interest enough to retain so
distinguished a composer, whose energy and productiveness promised good
services. He was not only manager, but also part
{MUSIC AT MUNICH, 1777.}
(353)
proprietor of the theatre; the Elector paid the band and the ballet, and
gave a yearly contribution of 9,000 gulden to the expenses, which was
received by Seeau. In return the latter provided the opera and the play,
and engaged the members of the two companies, chiefly natives of Munich,
who were to be had for eight to twelve gulden a month.[3] The Italian
opera was only given during the carnival, and at great court festivals,
and then generally without remuneration; German operas were the rule,
that is, adaptations from the French or Italian, for as yet original
German opera did not exist. What a brilliant success might be expected,
from the lively interest of the Munich public in all matters theatrical,
if a man of Mozart's genius were to devote himself to German opera!
Seeau inquired of the Bishop of Chiemsee if Mozart did not receive
enough from home to allow him to remain there on a small salary; he
should like to keep him; the Bishop doubted this. Count Seeau preferred
receiving a proposal, and remained silent; but Mozart could perceive
that he was turning the matter over in his mind. He himself was all on
fire at the idea of having operas to compose. He gives his father an
animated account of the impression made upon him by the performance of a
German opera, and by the vocalist (October 2, 1777):--
The prima donna is named Keiserin; she is the daughter of the cook of a
nobleman here, a pleasant girl, and pretty on the stage; I have not seen
her nearer yet. She is a native of Munich. I heard her the third time
that she played, and thought she had a beautiful voice, not very strong,
but not weak either, and a pure, good intonation. Valesi is her teacher,
and her style shows that her master understands singing as well as
teaching singing. When she had to sustain a note for a couple of bars,
I was surprised at the beauty of her _crescendo_ and _decrescendo_.
She has a slow shake, which I like extremely; it is all the clearer
and purer when she wants to make it quicker, and the quicker it is the
easier it is. She is an immense favourite with the people here, and
I agree with them. Mamma was in the body of the theatre; she went at
half-past four, in order to secure a seat I did not go till half-past
six, for I am well enough known to have the _entrée_ to any of the
boxes. I watched Mdlle. Keiserin with my glass, and she drew more than
one tear from
{MUNICH AND AUGSBURG.}
(354)
me; I cried "Brava, bravissima," very often, remembering that this was
only her third appearance. The piece was called "The Fisher-Girl" (La
Pescatrice), a good translation, with Piccinni's music, but with nothing
original in it. They want to have a German opera seria soon--and they
wish me to compose it.
Among the "wishers" was a certain Professor Huber, whom Mozart had met
at the Messmers' during his last visit to Vienna (1771); they renewed
their acquaintance at Herr Albert's, where the professor was a frequent
visitor. He was the deputy-manager of the theatre, and had, as Mozart
expressed it, "to read all the pieces submitted for performance, to
improve, spoil, accept, reject them." This censorship was necessary,
since the management performed all that was sent in, and was bound to
put in study every native production. And as at that time "almost
every student and official in Munich was bitten with the mania for
authorship,"[4] they were overwhelmed with trash. Huber must have felt
it a matter of importance to retain such a remarkable genius as Mozart
for the Munich theatre.
The wish, indeed, was generally felt; Baron Rumling paid Wolfgang the
compliment of saying: "The theatre is my delight, with good actors and
actresses, good singers, male and female, and such a capital composer
as you are!" Of this Wolfgang says (October 2, 1777): "It is only
talk, certainly--and talk does not go far--but he never spoke so to me
before." Wolfgang played several days in succession before Count Jos.
von Salem, the chief director of music and the opera (b. 1718);[5]
he played a good deal "out of his head," then the two "cassatione"
(247,287, K.) composed for the Countess Lodron, and the finalmusik (250
K.):--
You cannot think how delighted the Count was; he understands music, for
he cried "Bravo!" every time that other fine gentlemen take a pinch of
snuff, blow their noses, cough, or begin a conversation. I said to him
that I wished the Elector were there, that he might hear what I could
do, of which he knows nothing. All these great people believe whatever
is told them, and refuse to judge for themselves. It is always the way.
I offered him a trial; he was to get together all the artists in
{PROSPECTS OF SUCCESS IN MUNICH.}
(355)
Munich, and any he chose from Italy, France, Germany, England, and
Spain; I would undertake to write against any of them. I told him what
had happened in Italy, and begged him, if the talk turned upon me, to
remember all this. He said: "I have very little influence; but what I
can do I will, with all my heart."
He had some intercourse with musicians, too; Consoli had met him on his
entrance into the town, and lost no time in visiting him, and his old
friend Becke, the flautist, soon made his appearance. Albert arranged a
little concert ("with a wretched clavier, alas! alas!"), and invited a
clergyman, Dubreil, a pupil of Tartini, with the idea that he was a good
judge, and a clever performer; but this turned out to be a mistake.
We first played Haydn's two quintets, but it was dreadful; I scarcely
heard him; he could not play four bars without mistakes; his fingering
was bad, and he left out all the _sospiri_.[6] He was very polite, and
praised the quintets, but--Then I played my concerto (clavier) in C, in
B flat, in E flat major (238, 246, 271, K.), and my trio (254 K.). The
accompaniment was fine; in the adagio I had to play six bars of his
part. Last of all, I played the last cassation in B (287 K.), and
they all stared. I played as if I were the greatest fiddler in Europe
(October 6, 1777).
Herr Albert, who took great interest in Wolfgang, far beyond merely
entertaining him,[7] made him a proposal which might render it possible
for him to remain in Munich. He promised to bring ten friends together,
who should each contribute one ducat a month, or 600 florins a-year; it
would be easy to get commissions from Count Seeau which would raise
his income to 800 florins. "What do you think of this idea?" writes
Wolfgang, overjoyed; "is it not an act of friendship? and should I not
accept it, if it is really in earnest?" There was the immediate future
to be provided for, and for this he was assured that the concerts would
begin in November, and last until May (one was given in Herr Albert's
hall every Saturday), and then strangers came to the town; if he only
stayed now, he was quite certain of
{MUNICH AND AUGSBURG.}
(356)
an engagement. Wolfgang's mother thought well of this proposal; but his
father, as a man of the world, had many scruples (October 4, 1777):--
Herr Albert's proposition is, indeed, as great an act of friendship as
one can imagine; but, though it does not appear to have occurred to you,
the difficulty, to my mind, will be to find the ten people who are to
give the ducat a month. Who are these philanthropists and lovers of
music? What is their connection with you, and what services will they
demand in return? I do not see where they are to come from. Herr Albert
would scarcely be able to speak to them all without delay; some of them
may be away from Munich. For myself, I should prefer mercantile men to
noblemen. It all depends upon whether they keep their word, and for how
long. If the thing is feasible, well and good; it ought to be accepted;
but, unless it can be settled at once, you cannot stay there spending
money and losing time, for no profit is to be expected in Munich, in
spite of all their compliments and promises.
He turned out to be right: the ten philanthropists and lovers of music
did not come forward, and Wolfgang had to submit more than once to
reproaches for his readiness to believe in "fires of straw, which
burn up quickly and end in smoke." But even without such aid, Wolfgang
thought he might maintain himself in Munich for the present (October 2,
1777).
It would not be impossible for me to get on alone; I should get, at
least, 300 florins from Count Seeau; I need not concern myself as to my
board; I should be always invited out, and even if I were not, nothing
pleases Herr Albert more than my taking my meals with him.
I should contract with Count Seeau (on the advice of my best friends) to
supply him yearly with four German operas, some _buffe_, some _serie_.
Then if I had a _sera_, or benefit, on each, as is the custom here, that
would give at least 500 florins, which would bring my income up to 800
florins, and probably more, for Reiner, a comedian and singer, took
200 florins for his _sera_, and I am a _great favourite_ here; I should
become a far greater if I helped to raise the German drama by my music.
Mozart had clearly some confidence in his own powers; he did not think
it much to offer to write four German operas every year, and a salary of
+three hundred gulden did not strike him as being poor pay for the work.
But Count Seeau appears to have been too prudent to risk even so much as
this, and L. Mozart was still less inclined to consent to a
{MOZART AND COUNT SEEAU.}
(357)
plan which based all its calculations on future and uncertain profits,
and would not redound to Wolfgang's honour. "You might certainly manage
to live alone in Munich," he wrote (October 6, 1777), "but what good
would this do you? How the Archbishop would sneer! You can do that
anywhere else as easily as in Munich. You must not make little of your
talents, and throw yourself away; there is certainly no need for that."
Wolfgang's sister was of the same opinion: "It would be no honour to you
to remain in Munich without any official position. It would be better
to seek one at some other court; you will soon find it." The father
desired, therefore, that they should leave Munich as soon as possible.
"Fine words and bravissimos pay neither the postboy nor the host. As
soon as you find there is nothing to be got, you had better move on."
The good friends he had made might go on working for him in his absence,
and preparing the way for a future position for him. He suggested this
to Count Seeau, as he tells his father (October 3, 1777).
"I have come to explain my affairs correctly to your excellency. I
have been told that I ought to travel in Italy. I was sixteen months in
Italy, and wrote three operas, as is well known. What happened further
your excellency will see by these documents." I showed him the diplomas.
"I lay all this before your excellency in order that if there is any
talk of me, and any injustice done me, your excellency may be able to
set it right." He asked me if I was going to France now. I said I should
remain in Germany. He thought I meant Munich, and said, with a joyful
laugh: "What! you are going to remain here?" I said: "No; I should like
to have stayed; and, to tell the truth, I only sought service under
the Elector in order that I might supply your excellency with my
compositions, and that without any personal interest; I should have
taken pleasure in it." Whereupon he pushed back his nightcap.
This then was the end of all the fine promises and honours. But other
prospects were opened to Wolfgang during his stay in Munich, which
excited his liveliest interest. Misliweczeck, his Italian friend (p.
126), had produced at the carnival in Munich his opera, "Ezio,"[8] and
during Lent his
{MUNICH AND AUGSBURG.}
(358)
oratorio, "Abraamo ed Isaaco," both with astonishing success; he was
engaged for the next carnival at Naples, and only kept in Munich by
illness.[9] He gave Wolfgang prospects of a _scrittura_ in Naples, and
wrote a letter on his behalf to the impresario, Don Gaetano Santorio.
Mozart, with his "inexpressible longing to write an opera once more,"
wrote joyfully to his father (October 10, 1777):--
I have my hundred ducats certain in the carnival; and, when I have once
written at Naples, I shall be in request everywhere. As you know, in
summer and autumn there is an opera buffa to be picked up here and
there, which will do to keep one's hand in. It is true that one does
not make much, but it is always something, and one gains more honour and
credit than by a hundred concerts in Germany. I am more pleased, too,
because I have to compose, which is my sole passion and delight, Then,
if I obtain service, or the hope of it, the _scrittura_ will be a great
recommendation. I speak exactly as I feel from my heart, and if you can
prove to me that I am wrong, I shall be ready, although unwillingly,
to submit; for, if I only hear the name of an opera, I am quite beside
myself.
But the father was not against it, and only thought that this interlude
must not cause the main object of the journey to be lost sight of. He
therefore corresponded with Misli-weczeck, but soon observed that the
latter only mentioned the _scrittura_ when he had some favour to ask for
himself. In point of fact, nothing came of this proposal.
The same ill-success attended the father's effort to obtain for Wolfgang
a commission to write an opera for the Feast of the Ascension in Venice;
the impresario Michele dall' Agata returned no answer to two letters
addressed to him (February 12, 1778).
On October 11 the travellers left Munich, and reached Augsburg the
same evening. Following L. Mozart's minute directions they established
themselves at "The Lamb" in
{VON LANGENMANTEL--STEIN.}
(359)
the Kreuzgasse, "where you pay thirty kreutzers for dinner, get nice
rooms and good society, English, French, &c." Wolfgang was well received
by his uncle, and contracted a close friendship with his lively cousin
Marianne, which may have compensated in some degree for the coldness of
his reception generally in his father's native town.
In obedience to his father's strict injunctions, he waited at once upon
"his Grace" the town-councillor Von Langen-mantel, with whom L. Mozart
had been well acquainted in former years. But Wolfgang gained little
encouragement from this audience, of which he gives his father the
following account:--
My first visit was to the town-councillor, Master Longotabarro; my
cousin, a dear, good man and an honest citizen, accompanied me, and had
the honour of waiting in the ante-room like a lackey until I came out
from the arch-town-councillor. I did not fail to begin by presenting my
father's humble respects. He was pleased to remember all about it,
and asked me: "How has the gentleman been all this time?" to which I
answered: "God be praised, quite well; I hope that your health has also
been good." Afterwards he was still more polite, and said, "Sir," and
I said, "Your Grace," as I had all along. Nothing would satisfy him but
that I should go up with him to his son-in-law (on the second floor),
and my cousin waiting on the steps all the while. It was with difficulty
that I refrained from saying something, with all my politeness. Upstairs
I had the honour of playing for three-quarters of an hour upon a good
clavichord, by Stein, in the presence of the stiff and starched son of
his long-necked, gracious, lady-wife, and her silly old mother. I played
fantasias, and then everything he had _prima vista_, among others some
very pretty pieces by a certain Edlmann. They were all exceedingly
polite, and I was exceedingly polite, for it is my custom to be to
people as I find them; it is the best way.
The next visit was to the celebrated organ and clavier maker, Georg
Andr. Stein (1728-1792). The father conceived the idea that Wolfgang
should present himself to Stein under a feigned name, and should
pretend that he came from Innspruck with a commission to inspect some
instruments. Such a joke was quite to Wolfgang's mind, and he told his
father how it had passed. During his visit to the town-councillor he had
expressed his intention of calling upon Stein after dinner:--
{MUNICH AND AUGSBURG.}
(360)
The younger gentleman thereupon volunteered to accompany me. I thanked
him for his kindness, and promised to come at two o'clock. I came, and
we set out in company with his brother-in-law, who looks exactly like
a student. Although I had begged them not to say who I was, Herr von
Langenmantel blurted out, "I have the honour to introduce to you a
virtuoso on the clavier." I protested, and said I was an unworthy
disciple of Herr Sigl, of Munich, by whom I was charged with many
compliments, &c. He shook his head, and at last said: "Have I the honour
of seeing Herr Mozart?" "Oh, no," said I; "my name is Trazom, and I have
a letter to you." He took the letter and was going to open it. I did not
give him time, and said, "Why should you read the letter now? Let us go
into the hall and see your pianofortes, which I am most curious to do."
"With all my heart; but I do not think I am deceived." He opened the
door of his show-room. I ran to one of the three claviers which stood
there. I played. He could scarcely take time to open the letter, his
curiosity was so excited. He read only the signature. "Oh!" he screamed,
and embraced me, and crossed himself, and made grimaces, and was
altogether very delighted.
Mozart, for his part, was equally delighted with Stein's pianofortes, of
which he gives his father the following detailed account:--
Before I had seen Stein's work I preferred Späth's claviers to all
others, but now I must give the preference to Stein's, for they mute
much better than Späth's. If I strike hard, whether I raise my finger
or not, the sound passes the instant I have heard it. I may come upon
the keys as I like, the tone is always the same; it does not block, it
neither becomes stronger nor weaker, nor does it cease altogether; in
a word, it is all equal. Such a pianoforte, it is true, cannot be
had under 300 florins, but the trouble and labour bestowed on it are
inestimable. His hammers fall the instant the keys are struck, whether
they are held down or not. When such an instrument is finished (he told
me himself), he sits down and tries all sorts of passages, runs, and
jumps, and works away until he is satisfied. He often said: "If I were
not such a passionate lover of music myself, and were not able to play
a little on the clavier, I should long ago have lost patience with my
work; but I am a lover of instruments which do not tax the player, and
which wear well." And his claviers do wear well. He guarantees that the
sounding-board shall not spring. When a sounding-board is ready for a
piano, he exposes it to air, rain, snow, sun, so that it may warp, and
then he puts on slips and glues them down, so that it is all strong and
true. He is glad when it warps, because then he is sure that nothing
more will happen. He has three such pianofortes finished. I have played
upon them again to-day. The pedal, which is pressed by the knee, is
better managed by him than by others. If I only just touch it, it acts;
and when the knee is removed there is not the least vibration.
{MARIA ANNA STEIN.}
(361)
Mozart knew how to make the most of these improved instruments. His
playing and his intelligent admiration so won Stein's approbation,
that the latter followed the advice Wolfgang gave him concerning the
education of his daughter. Maria Anna Stein (b. 1769) was the prodigy of
Augsburg; in April, 1776, she had played her first concerto to
universal admiration, and had received a beautiful medal from the town
nobility.[10] Wolfgang's criticism on her playing to his father (October
24, 1777) is somewhat severe, but so important as showing his views on
pianoforte-playing in general that it must be given entire. The memory
of the excellent Frau Nanette Streicher will not suffer from the bold
criticism of the young Mozart:--
_A propos_ of his daughter. Whoever sees her and hears her without
laughing must be as much of a stone (Stein) as her father himself. She
sits right up in the treble, instead of in the middle of the instrument,
so that she may be better able to move about and make grimaces. Her eyes
roll, and she simpers and smirks. If a thing comes twice over, it is
played slower the second time; and if a third time, it is slower still.
The arm goes high, up in the air when a passage comes, and the emphasis
is given by the whole arm instead of the finger, clumsily and heavily.
But the best of all is when, in a passage that ought to flow like oil,
the fingers have to be changed; it makes no difference at all to her,
but, when the time comes, up goes her hand, and she begins again quite
calmly; so that one is always in expectation of a wrong note, which
makes the effect very striking. I only write all this to give you some
idea of what clavier-playing and teaching may be brought to; I leave you
to make your own use of the hints. Herr Stein is quite infatuated over
his daughter; she is eight and a half years old, and learns everything
by heart. She may turn out something--she has genius; but as she is
going on at present she will not turn out anything; she will never gain
fluency, because she is doing all she can to make her hand heavy. She
will never learn the most difficult and most necessary part of music,
that is _time_, because she has been accustomed from her earliest youth
to play out of time. Herr Stein and I had at least two hours' talk on
this point. I think I nearly converted him, and now he asks my advice
about everything. He was quite infatuated in Beecké. Now he sees and
hears that I play better than Beecké, that I make no grimaces, and yet
play with so much expression that I show off his pianofortes better than
any one. The correctness of my time
{MUNICH AND AUGSBURG.}
(362)
astonishes them all. The _tempo rubato_ in an adagio, with the left hand
keeping strict time, was quite past their comprehension; they always
follow with the left hand.[11]
The expressions about Beecké, who was considered among the best
pianoforte-players, are only repetition of what was said on all sides.
"Count Wolfegg, and several others who are very enthusiastic for Beecké,
said lately at a public concert that I had thrown Beecké quite into
the shade," writes Wolfgang in confirmation of his own opinion. Even
Archbishop Hieronymus was reported to have said aside to his favourites
that Beecké was a charlatan and a merry-andrew, and that Mozart far
surpassed him (June 29, 1778). He played a tolerably difficult sonata
by Beecké, _prima vista_, "miserabile al solito"; how the kapellmeister
Graf and the organist Schmitthauer crossed themselves over the
performance may be better imagined than described.
Mozart's organ and violin-playing created quite as much astonishment as
his performances on the clavier:--
When I told Herr Stein that I should like to play upon his organ (in the
Barfüsserkirche), for that I had a passion for the organ, he was greatly
astonished, and said: "What! a man like you, a clavier-player, willing
to play on an instrument which has no _douceur_, no expression; which
allows of neither _piano_ nor _forte_, but goes on always the same!"
"All that has nothing to do with it. To my mind, the organ is the king
of all instruments." "Well, do as you like." So we went together. I
could guess by his way of talking that he did not expect me to do his
organ much credit; he thought I should play clavier fashion. He told me
how he had taken Chobert to the organ according to his request. "And I
was sorry," said he, "for Chobert had told everybody, and the church
was full. I had imagined the fellow would be full of spirit, fire, and
rapidity, and that would tell on the organ; but as soon as he began
I changed my opinion." I only said, "What do you think, Herr Stein? Are
you afraid that I shall come to grief on the organ?" "Ah, you! that is
quite different." We went into the choir; I began to prelude, at which
he laughed with delight; then followed a fugue. "I can well believe,"
said he, "that you enjoy playing the organ, when you play like that." At
first I did not quite understand the pedal, because it was not divided.
It began C, then D E in a row. With us D and E are above, where E flat
and F sharp are here. But I soon grew accustomed to it.
{AUGSBURG, 1777.}
(363)
He played the organ also in the monastery of St. Ulrich, which had the
dreadful steps, and often visited the monastery of the Holy Cross, where
he was invited to dine on October 19, and entertained with music during
the meal (October 24, 1777).
However badly they may play, yet I prefer the music of the monastery to
the Augsburg orchestra. I played a symphony and the violin concerto in
B flat by Wanhall with universal applause. The Dean is a good, jolly
fellow; he is a cousin of Eberlin's, named Zeschinger, and remembers
papa very well. In the evening at supper I played the Strasburg concerto
(219 K.). It went as smooth as oil. They all praised the beautiful pure
tone. Afterwards a little clavichord was brought in. I preluded, and
played a sonata, and the Fischer variations. Then some one whispered to
the Dean that he should hear me play organ fashion. I said he might give
me a theme, but he would not, so one of the monks did. I led off with
it, and in the middle (the fugue was in G minor) I began in the major,
in a playful style but in the same time, and then came back to the
theme. At last it occurred to me that I might use the playful style
for the theme of the fugue. Without more ado I tried it, and it went
as accurately as if it had been measured for by Daser (the Salzburg
tailor). The Dean was quite beside himself. "I could never have believed
it," said he; "you are a wonderful man. My Abbot told me that he had
never in his life heard such correct and solemn organ-playing." The
Abbot had heard me two or three days before, when the Dean was not
there. Finally, some one brought a sonata which was fugued, for me to
play. But I said, "Gentlemen, this is too much; I must acknowledge that
I cannot play this sonata at once." "I think so, too," said the Dean,
eagerly, for he was quite on my side; "that is too much; it would be
impossible for any one." "Still," said I, "I will try it." And all the
time I played I heard the Dean calling out behind me, "Oh, you rascal!
oh, you young scamp!" I played until eleven o'clock. They bombarded me
with themes for fugues, and laid siege to me on all sides.
In return for his kind reception and the pleasure expressed in his
playing, Wolfgang presented the Abbot Barth. Christa (1760-1780) with
several compositions, the Masses in F (192 K.), in C (220 K.), and the
"Misericordias Domini" (222 K.). He refers to them in writing to his
father, as well as to a litany, "De venerabili" (November 20, 1777).
What has become of this last we do not know.[12]
{MUNICH AND AUGSBURG.}
(364)
In spite of all this applause from connoisseurs, the prospects of a
concert were not good. At first a brilliant reception was expected. Herr
von Langenmantel, son of the town-councillor, had taken the matter
into his own hands and promised to arrange a "chamber concert" for the
_patricii_ only. But some days later he invited Wolfgang, and after he
had played as long as the company pleased, explained to him that the
concert could not take place, since "the _patricii_ were not in funds."
As if this was not enough, the _patricii_ thought fit to make sport
of him at table. In accordance with his father's advice that he should
insure respect and consideration for himself in places where there was
no reigning prince, by wearing the order conferred on him by the great
Pope Ganganelli, Wolfgang wore the cross of his order at Augsburg. This
was made an occasion for mockery; and one officer in particular, Bach by
name, was so rude and insulting that Wolfgang lost patience, and repaid
him in kind, calling him "Herr von Kurzmantl"; but he does not seem ever
to have worn the order again. He had promised to attend, and perhaps to
play at, the weekly concert given during the winter months by a society
of noblemen, both Catholic and Protestant;[13] but, indignant at the
treatment he had received, he declared he would only give a concert
for a few invited friends and connoisseurs. They were Catholic nobles,
however, who had insulted him, and Stein set in motion the evangelical
(not Lutheran, as L. Mozart reminds his son) nobles,[14] who made such
friendly overtures that he
{CONCERT AT AUGSBURG, OCTOBER, 1777.}
(365)
attended a concert given by the "peasant nobles,"[15] and played one
of his symphonies, taking the violin himself, and then a concerto and a
sonata. Compliments and eulogies were heaped upon him, and finally two
ducats were presented to him. Wolfgang's father thought him far too
yielding: "One thing is very certain," he writes (October 20, 1777),
"they would not have found me at their beggarly concert. In the
meantime, through the exertions of his friends, a public concert was
given on October 22:--
What do you think came next after the symphony? The concerto for three
claviers (242 K.). Herr Demmler played the first, I the second, and Herr
Stein the third. Then I played alone the last sonata in D (284 K.), then
my concerto in B flat (238 K.), then a fugue in C minor, and a splendid
sonata in C major out of my own head, with a rondo at the end. There
was a tremendous noise and confusion. Herr Stein made one grimace after
another for delight. Herr Demmler actually laughed. This eccentric being
always laughs when anything pleases him. This time he began to swear.
Count Wolfegg ran about the room, saying, "I never heard anything like
it in my life." He said to me, "I must tell you that I never heard you
play so well as to-day; I will tell your father so as soon as I get to
Salzburg."
L. Mozart's heart was rejoiced by "a wonderfully fine article in the
newspaper," probably from the pen of Herr von Sabnesnig, of whose
charming poetry he had reminded Wolfgang.
On the other hand the receipts of the concert were small, considering
that he had put forth all his powers;[16] ninety gulden, with sixteen
gulden thirty kreutzers' expenses. Wolfgang was not tempted to retract
what he had written to his father in anger, about the behaviour of the
aristocrats (October 16, 1777):--
I must say that if I had not found such good and charming cousins
I should repent ever having set foot in Augsburg. I must tell you
something about my dear little cousin, but I will wait till to-morrow,
for I ought to be in good spirits to praise her as she deserves. Early
on the
{MUNICH AND AUGSBURG.}
(366)
17th I shall write and assure you that our little cousin is pretty,
sensible, charming, clever, and merry; she knows something of the world,
having been in Munich some time. We two suit each other exactly, for she
is just a little wicked;[17] we laugh at everybody, and have great fun.
Defending his cousin against a slighting expression of his father's,
Wolfgang says, "Yesterday, to please me, she dressed _à la française_,
and looked five per cent, prettier." He gave her his portrait in a
little medallion, and made her promise to be painted in French costume.
A mournful parting ended this happy visit, Stein having written to
Wolfgang's father in the most eulogistic manner concerning his son's
performances. At the next quoit-playing meeting in Salzburg there
appeared on the quoit a representation of "the sad adieux of two persons
dissolved in tears, Wolfgang and his cousin." "The quoit was charming,"
wrote the father (November 17,1777); "an Augsburg maiden stood at the
right and presented a young man in top boots, equipped for travelling,
and in the other hand she carried a wonderful linen cloth trailing on
the ground, with which she dried her eyes. The gentleman had a similar
cloth, which he was putting to the same use, and he held his hat in his
other hand. Written above were six lines of poetry, expressive of the
sorrowful emotions of the young couple."[18]
This good-humoured participation in the little adventures of his son
stands in striking and effective contrast to the earnest care which
breathes from a letter addressed to Wolfgang on his fête-day (October
31):--
I must wish you happiness on your fête-day. But what more can I wish for
you than I am always wishing? I wish that the grace of God may be with
you everywhere, and never forsake you as long as you are diligent in
performing the duties of a true Catholic Christian. You know me, and
know that I am no pedant, no canting hypocrite; but
{HOHENALTHEIM, 1777}
(367)
you will not refuse your father one prayer. This is, that you will have
such concern for your soul that you may cause your father no anguish
on his death-bed in the thought that he has been careless of the things
which concern your salvation. Farewell! be happy; be wise. Honour and
cherish your mother, who is troubled in her old age for your sake. Love
me as I love you. Your faithful, anxious father.
The son's answer is in the tone of reverence which it becomes children
to adopt on such occasions to their parents:--
I kiss your hand, and thank you humbly for your good wishes on my
fête-day. Have no concern for me; I have God ever before my eyes; I
acknowledge His omnipotence, I fear His anger; but I also acknowledge
His love, His mercy and pity towards His creatures; He will never
forsake His servants. I submit myself wholly to His will, and so it
cannot fail I must be happy and content. I shall also be diligent to
follow the commands and the counsel which you are so good as to give me.
On October 26 Wolfgang and his mother left Augsburg, and proceeded by
way of Donauwörth and Nordlingen to Hohenaltheim, the residence of the
Prince von Oetting-Wallerstein.[19] Music was held in high honour
at this little court; not only were celebrated performers, such as
Janitsch, the violinist, Reicha, the violoncellist, Perwein, the
oboist, &c., encouraged to settle there, but the whole orchestra was
distinguished for its delicacy of execution. Rosetti, the conductor,
had "carried his observance of the most delicate gradations of tone
sometimes to the bounds of pedantry."[20] Ignaz von Beecké, captain in a
Wurtemberg dragoon regiment, was manager of the court music, and himself
a distinguished clavier-player and composer. The Prince, a handsome
young man, who had formerly invited Wolfgang to visit him in Naples, was
suffering from an attack of melancholy, and unable to bear music; but
the Mozarts were obliged to remain several days at Hohenaltheim on
account of the mother's severe cold. A rumour reached L. Mozart that
Wolfgang had been playing the buffoon there, that he had danced about,
playing the violin, and had gained the
{MANNHEIM.}
(368)
reputation of being a wild, merry fellow. He considered that this would
afford Beecké, who was jealous of Wolfgang, an excellent opportunity of
depreciating his powers as an artist (January 26, 1778), Wolfgang gave a
decided contradiction to this report; he had "sat at the officers'
table with all due honour, and had not said a word to any one; when with
Beecké, too, he had been quite serious." Beecké had received him kindly,
had promised him advice and support should he ever go to Paris, and had
heard him play. They had talked about Vienna, too, and agreed that the
Emperor Joseph was a fair executant, but not a true lover of music.
Beecké said that he had only played fugues and such like "trifles"
before him, and that he had heard music in the Emperor's cabinet which
was enough to frighten the very dogs away. They also confided to each
other that music gave them both the headache; only good music had this
effect with Beecké, and bad with Mozart.
The travellers entered Mannheim on October 30. Their stay was longer
than they had intended, and although the hopes with which it opened were
not destined to be fulfilled, yet the months passed in Mannheim were
fruitful in their effect on Wolfgang's development, both musical and
The Elector, Karl Theodor,[21] had studied in his early youth under the
Jesuits, and had then visited the Universities of Leyden and Lowen,
displaying a great taste for science, poetry, art, and music, the last
of which he practised himself. The extravagance which he lavished on
his court and on his park of Schwetzingen--the Versailles of the
palatinate--was carried also in some degree into the affairs of science
and art.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Müller, Abschied von der Bühne, p. 215.]
[Footnote 2: Rudhart, Gesch. d. Oper zu München, I., p. 134.]
[Footnote 3: Müller, Abschied von der Bühne, p. 219.]
[Footnote 4: Müller, Abschied von der Bühne, p. 219.]
[Footnote 5: Rudhart, Gesch. d. Oper zu München, I., p. 130.]
[Footnote 6: Sospiri, crotchet-rests.]
[Footnote 7: He got up in his honour a little serenade for wind instruments;
another time they had dancing: "I danced only four minuets, for there
was only one lady among them who could keep time."]
[Footnote 8: Müller, Abschied von der Bühne, p. 222.]
[Footnote 9: He had brought on this illness by excess, and L. Mozart consequently
forbade his son to visit him. But Misliweczeck asked for him so
continually, and expressed so earnest a wish to see him, that Mozart
could not refuse, and met him in the garden of the Ducal Hospital. The
way in which he apologises to his father, and the pity he expresses for
the unfortunate man, whose affection touched him deeply, do honour alike
to the goodness and the innocence of his heart.]
[Footnote 10: Schubart, Teutsche Chronik, 1776, p. 239. Fr. Nicolai, Reise,
VIII., p. 156.]
[Footnote 11: Here we recognise the pupil of his father; we have seen the opinion
of the latter as to _tempo rubato_ in the hands of the true virtuoso, p.
12.]
[Footnote 12: Mozart was said to have composed a mass for the Monastery of the
Holy Cross about this time; the autograph score was taken from the
monastery in the troubled times which followed, and passed into private
hands; it came to light in 1856, and was acknowledged as genuine by
Gathy (Revue et Gaz. Mus., 1856, Nr. 12, p. 90). After an examination of
the manuscript, through the kindness of Herr Speyer, I can affirm with
certainty that the mass is neither composed nor written by Mozart. It is
in C minor, with accompaniment for strings, flutes, trumpets, drums, and
organ. It has many solos. A long symphony in two movements precedes the
Credo; a Laudate Dominum is inserted as an offertory. The discrepancies
of form might be explained by the Augsburg traditions, but (beside
that there is no mention in his letters of any such composition) the
composition and handwriting are equally unlike Mozart.]
[Footnote 13: Cramer, Musik, 1788, II., p. 126.]
[Footnote 14: The disputes between Catholics and Protestants in Augsburg amounted
to fanaticism, and affected great matters as well as small (Schubart,
Selbst-biographie, 17, II., p. 15. K. R[isbeck], Briefe fiber
Deutschland, II., p. 55).]
[Footnote 15: The list of members, which Wolfgang gives his father, is a
counterpart to Goethe's _dramatis personæ_ to "Hans Wurst's Hochzeit."]
[Footnote 16: Paul von Stetten, Kunst-, Gewerb-, und Handwerks-Geschichte der
Reich-stadt Augsburg (1779), p. 554.]
[Footnote 17: Wolfgang liked to be called _sly_ ("schlimm.") When Madame Duschek
heard that he had left Salzburg she wrote that "she had just heard of
the disagreeable affair at Salzburg; that he and she were quite agreed
on the subject; and if Wolfgang, slyer than ever, now liked to come
straight to Prague, he would receive the heartiest welcome"; so his
father writes (September 28, 1777). His tendency to criticism, and the
tone he usually assumed in jesting, will show pretty well what was meant
by "schlimm."]
[Footnote 18: Mozart maintained a correspondence with his cousin.]
[Footnote 19: Lang, Memoiren, I., p. 56.]
[Footnote 20: Schubart, Aesthetik, p. 169.]
[Footnote 21:Karl Theodor, born 1724, Elector Palaüne in 1743, died Elector of Bavaria 1799.]
====
MOZART
BY DAVID WIDGER
CHAPTER XVII. MANNHEIM
The Palatinate Academy of Science, founded in 1763, encouraged
historical and scientific research; collections of pictures and
engravings,
{ART IN THE PALATINATE.}
(369)
and an exhibition of plaster casts from the antique--at that time the
only, and much-thought-of collection of the kind in Germany[2]--served,
in connection with an academy, to encourage the formative arts; and a
German society, founded in Mannheim by the Elector in 1775, proved
the desire of its members to take their share in the new impulse which
German literature had then received.[3]
Klopstock's presence in this year had not been without its influence;
not content with native authors, such as Gemmingen, Klein, Dalberg, the
painter Müller, the Elector sought, but in vain, to attract acknowledged
celebrities, such as Lessing[4] and Wieland.[5] His zealous co-operation
was given to the plan of founding a German drama in the place of the
usual French one;[6] the national theatre was built,[7] and efforts were
made to retain Lessing as dramatist and Eckhoff as actor.[8] When this
failed, the engagement of Marchand secured them at least a first-rate
actor.[9]
But music was incontestably the peculiar province of Mannhein, the
"paradise of musicians."[10] Here too, patriotic
{MANNHEIM.}
(370)
feeling was supreme.[11] Original German operas took the place of the
grand Italian opera, with its appendage of translated comic opera,
generally borrowed from the French.[12]
The performances of the Seiler company of actors, which had come to
Weimar in the autumn of 1771 in the place of the Koch company, suggested
to Wieland the idea of a grand, serious German opera in addition to the
operettas which had met with so much success.[13] His "Alcestis"[14]
was intended as an important step in this direction, as is proved by
his "Letters on the German opera of 'Alcestis,'"[15] which, by their
comparison of himself with Euripides, called forth Goethe's burlesque.
His opera met with ready acknowledgment, but at the same time with
severe and deserved blame.[16] It was thought to be too evidently
fashioned after Metastasio's pattern, both in plan and treatment; and
to be wanting in dramatic interest, true passion, and lively
characteristic; the public found the opera tedious and trivial, and
took just umbrage at the conception of Hercules as a virtuous humdrum
citizen. Wieland found in Schweitzer an ideal composer, who identified
himself with the poet, who could be silent when the poet wished to speak
alone, but who hastened to aid him at need with all the resources of
musical art; a composer, too, who thought more of producing a true
impression on the mind of his hearers, than of flattering their ears,
inciting their curiosity or even adhering too closely to the mechanical
rules of his art. Wieland was not content with placing Schweitzer on
a level with the best Italian composers; in a letter to Klein[17] he
speaks of Gluck's "Alceste" as a divine work, but does not hesitate to
declare Schweitzer's composition to be the best that had
{SCHWEITZER'S "ALCESTE."}
(371)
ever been heard of the kind. Schweitzer's music[18] was in fact
much applauded, and he was judged to have accomplished more than the
poet.[19] His efforts after a true and forcible musical expression of
emotion, and after originality, are worthy of all praise; and phrases
here and there, particularly in the accompanied recitative, are of
charming effect, while the orchestra is carefully treated, and not at
all after the usual manner of Italian opera. On the other hand he has
been justly blamed for his slavish adherence to the old form of the
aria, with da capo, middle passage, bravura passages, and ritomello;
he is unequal, too, and his effects are all those of detail. What is
wanting is genius, original power of creation, which forms details into
one great whole, and produces something altogether new and complete.
This was felt by Zelter[20] and by Mozart, who wrote to his father
that the best part of Schweitzer's melancholy "Alceste" (besides the
beginnings, middles and endings of some of the songs) was the beginning
of the recitative, "O Jugendzeit," and the worst (together with the
greater part of the opera) was the overture. This consists of two
movements, an adagio and a fugue, which are both unimportant and
commonplace.
"Alceste" was first performed in Weimar on May 28, 1773, and frequently
repeated, always with the greatest success;[21] this was also the case
in Gotha and Frankfort; and on August 13, 1775, Karl Theodor produced
the opera with great brilliancy at Schwetzingen.[22] The success was
great, and it was considered as marking an epoch that a German opera,
written by a German poet, composed by a German musician, and sung by
German artists, should be produced successfully by a German Prince. In
the following summer
{MANNHEIM.}
(372)
Wieland received a commission to write a new opera, which Schweitzer was
to compose under his immediate direction.
The way being once cleared, it was easy to take further steps in the
same direction. The Elector hit upon the idea of representing scenes
from the national history in German musical dramas.[23] Professor Anton
Klein, formerly a Jesuit, and always one of the most zealous supporters
of the patriotic struggle then proceeding, wrote for this purpose
"Günther von Schwarzburg,"[24] which was composed by Holzbauer,[25] and
performed on January 5, in the magnificent opera-house,[26] with all the
expenses guaranteed.[27] Schubart had anticipated with joy "the glorious
revolution in taste,"[28] and the applause was great, although the
success was not so deep and lasting as might have been expected. The
critics[29] found much in the text at which to take exception; Wieland
shrank from speaking in the "Mercury" about "this so-called opera" for
fear lest, absurd as it might appear, his criticism might be taken for
envy.[30] An evident effort is made to give the work a deeper tone than
one of mere patriotic sentiment; but in spite of the exalted emotion and
passion of the words and music, and of all that could be done in the way
of scenic accessories, the opera was too wanting in dramatic treatment
and characterisation to take very deep root. The phraseology is in
imitation of Klopstock, but the effort after force and
{"GÜNTHER V. SCHWARZBURG."}
(373)
originality is so clumsily made that Wieland's contempt is justified.
Of the music, it was said by the minister Hompesch that the predominant
feeling and ideas were neither French nor Italian, but genuinely
German;[31] Schubart praised its mixture of German feeling and foreign
grace,[32] and other critics spoke of its stamp of genius and its
gentle grace.[33] Mozart, who saw the opera the day after his arrival at
Mannheim, wrote to his father (November 16, 1777): "Holzbauer's music is
very fine; far too good for the poetry. I am amazed at the spirit of so
old a man as Holzbauer, for you would not believe the amount of fire
in his music." The force and animation of Holzbauer's music are still
apparent, though it is wanting in elevation and true musical sentiment.
He has not attained to original dramatic characterisation except in
single touches, more especially in the recitatives; he never deviates
from the customary Italian form, but the adaptation of this form to
German song was in itself considered a remarkable innovation.
The most distinguished vocalists, male and female, of the Mannheim
opera were, thanks to Holzbauer's excellent school of music, almost all
Germans.[34] Among them was Dorothea Wendling (_née_ Spumi, 1737-1811),
"the German Melpomene of Mannheim's Golden Age,"[35] who excited
universal admiration by her perfect and expressive singing. According to
Wieland she surpassed even Mara, and he found in her his ideal of song,
as the language of the mind and the heart, every note being the living
expression of the purest and most ardent emotion, and the whole song a
continuous thread of beauty.[36] Her beauty (Heinse saw in her
{MANNHEIM.}
(374)
countenance all that was caressing, soft, and feminine, combined with
the glow and animation of a passionate nature)[37] and her excellent
acting[38] elevated her performances to a very high point. Her
sister-in-law, Elizabeth Auguste Wendling (_née_ Sarselli, 1746-1786),
though less famous, and hindered by continued ill-health, was
nevertheless a praiseworthy singer; while Franciska Danzi (1756-1791),
married afterwards to the oboist, Le Brun,[39] was an artist of the
first rank, in her beauty and the compass of her voice, as well as
in her thorough musical cultivation: at the time of Mozart's visit to
Mannheim she was in London on leave of absence.[40]
But the fame of these youthful singers was far surpassed by that of the
now elderly tenor Anton Raaff.[41] He was born in 1714 at the village
of Holzem, not far from Bonn, and was educated at the Jesuit seminary in
Bonn. He had a beautiful voice, and the ease with which he sang by ear
made it a great labour to him to learn his notes. The Elector Clemens
August, who heard him sing in church, provided for his education as a
singer, and gave him a salary of 200 thalers. After causing him to study
a part in an oratorio, the Elector took him to Munich, where he was
engaged by Ferrandini (p. 133) to appear in opera. This led to his going
to study at Bologna under Bemacchi, from whose severe school he came
forth as one of the finest tenor singers of the century. He sang in
1738 at Florence, at the wedding of Maria Theresa, left Italy in 1742 to
return to Bonn, where his salary was raised to 750 florins, and sang at
different German courts; in 1749 he performed in Jomelli's "Didone" at
Vienna, to Metastasio's great satisfaction.[42] After a short stay in
Italy, he repaired in 1752 to
{ANTON RAAFF.}
(375)
Lisbon for three years, and from thence in 1755 to Madrid, where he
lived in close friendship with his musical director, Farinelli.[43] In
1759 they went together to Naples; here, it is said, his singing made so
deep an impression on the Princess Belmonte-Pignatelli as to cure her
of a deep melancholy into which she had been thrown by the death of her
husband.[44] On his return to Germany, in 1770, the Elector Karl Theodor
besought him to enter his service, on which Raaff modestly declared that
he should esteem himself happy if the Elector would be content with the
small remnant of his powers which was left to him. His voice was of
the finest tenor quality that could be heard, from the deepest to the
highest notes even, clear, and full. With a perfect mastery of the art
of song, displaying itself in his extraordinary power of singing, at
sight and of varying and introducing cadenzas, he combined a feeling
delivery "that seemed but an echo of his own good heart," and a clear,
deliberate judgment on things musical.[45] Added to all this his
enunciation was so distinct that even in the largest hall not a syllable
was lost. When Mozart first heard him in "Günther von Schwarzburg" his
chief impression was that of an old man's failing strength. He writes
(November 8, 1777):--
Herr Raaff sang his four songs and about 450 incidental bars in such a
manner as to show that it is want of voice which makes it so bad.
Unless one reminds oneself all the time that it is Raaff, the old and
celebrated tenor, who is singing, one cannot help laughing. As for
myself, if I had not known it was Raaff, I should have died of laughing.
As it was, I took out my handkerchief and blew my nose. He never was,
they tell me, anything of an actor; he should only be heard, not seen;
his presence is not at all good. In the opera he has to die, singing
a long, long, slow air, and he died with a smiling mouth, his voice
falling so at the end as to be quite inaudible. I was sitting in the
MANNHEIM.
(376)
orchestra, next to Wendling, the flute-player, and I remarked that it
was unnatural to expect a man to go on singing till he fell down dead.
"Never mind," said I, "a little patience, and it will soon be over." "I
think it will," said he, and laughed.
After hearing him oftener, Mozart did more justice to Raaff's artistic
skill, but he always thought his style wanting in simplicity. In
a letter from Paris (June 12, 1778) he pronounces a more detailed
judgment, true to his convictions, yet anxious not to wrong the
excellent man, of whom he was extremely fond:--
At his _début_ in the "Concert Spirituel" here he sang Bach's scena,
"Non so d'onde viene," which is my favourite song. I never heard him
sing it before, and he pleased me; his style suits the song, but the
style in itself, that of the Bernacchi school, is not at all to my
taste. There is too much in it of _cantabile_. I grant that when he
was younger and in his prime the effect must have been sometimes quite
startling. I like it, too, but there is too much of it; it is often
ludicrous. What really pleases me is his singing of certain little
things andantino, which he does in his own style. Everything in its
place. I imagine that his forte was bravura singing, which gives him
still, in spite of age, a good chest and a long breath. His voice is
fine, and very pleasant. If I shut my eyes when he is singing I hear
considerable resemblance to Meissner's, only Raaff's voice is the
pleasanter of the two. Meissner, as you know, has the bad habit of
endeavouring to make his voice tremble; Raaff never does this; he cannot
bear it. But, as far as true _cantabile_ is concerned, I like Meissner
better than Raaff, though he, too, according to my judgment, makes too
much of it. In bravura passages and roulades, and in his good distinct
utterance, Raaff bears off the palm.
All who saw Raaff on the stage pronounced him to be no actor, but only
a singer. In private he preserved the serenity and moderation of
an estimable and genuinely pious character. His moral conduct was
faultless, his opinions earnest and severe. He had occasional fits of
passion, but was for the most part good-humoured and benevolent, a true
and self-denying friend. No wonder that Mozart conceived a strong and
lasting attachment to such a man as this.[46]
{CHURCH MUSIC IN MANNHEIM.}
(377)
The most distinguished tenor singer in Mannheim, after Raaff, was his
pupil Frz. Hartig (b. 1750).[47]
Church music in Mannheim did not stand on the same high level as the
opera.[48] Schubart complains that little attention was paid to the true
church style, that the old masses were despised, and new ones introduced
in the most effeminate and mincing operatic style. Even Holzbauer's
sacred compositions were far inferior to his operas.[49] Mozart heard a
mass by Holzbauer, "written twenty-six years ago, but very good," as he
writes to his father (November 4, 1777); "he writes well, in good
church style, with fine passages for the voices and instruments."
Notwithstanding, he was far from pleased with the Mannheim church music
on the whole, and did not care, as he writes in the same letter, to have
one of his own masses performed there:--
Why? On account of their brevity? No, for everything here is short.
On account of their church style? Not at all; but only because, under
present circumstances, it is necessary to write principally for the
instruments, since nothing more wretched than the vocal department can
be conceived. Six soprani, six alti, six tenori, and six bassi to twenty
violins and twelve basses stand just in the proportion of 0 to 1, do
they not, Herr Bullinger? They have only two male sopranos, and both
old--just dying out. The soprano prefers singing the alto part, because
his upper notes are gone. The few boys that they have are wretched, and
the tenors and basses are like singers at a funeral.
The organ was still worse provided for, and Mozart pours out the full
measure of his scorn on the two court organists:--
They have two organists here, for whose sake alone it would be worth
taking the journey to Mannheim. I had a good opportunity of hearing
them, for it is the custom here to omit the Benedictus, and for the
organist to go on playing instead. The first time I heard the second
organist, and the next time the first; but I have a better opinion of
the second than of the first. When I heard him I asked, "Who is at the
organ?" "Our second organist." "He plays wretchedly." When I
{MANNHEIM.}
(378)
heard the other I asked, "Who is that?" "Our first organist." "He plays
more wretchedly still." I suppose if they were shaken up together the
result would be something worse still. It makes one die of laughing to
see them. The second goes to the organ like a child to the mud; he shows
his trade in his face. The first wears spectacles. I stood at the organ
and watched him for the sake of instruction. He lifts his hands high up
at every note. His _tour de force_ is the use of the sext stop; but he
oftener uses the quint, or the octave stop. He often playfully lets fall
the right hand, and plays only with the left. In a word, he does as he
likes; he is so far completely master of his instrument.
But Mannheim was distinguished most particularly for its instrumental
music, the orchestra being unanimously considered the finest in Europe.
It was more numerous and better appointed, especially as to wind
instruments, than was customary at the time.[50] It was here that Mozart
first became acquainted with the clarinet as an orchestral instrument.
"Oh, if we only had clarinetti!" he writes (December 3, 1778). "You
cannot think what a splendid effect a symphony makes with flutes, oboes,
and clarinets."[51]
Burney had only one fault to find, a fault common to all orchestras
of the day, viz., the occasionally defective intonation of the wind
instruments.[52] The Mannheim orchestra was not only well-appointed and
strong, but uniform and certain in execution, with delicate gradations
of tone until then
{THE MANNHEIM ORCHESTRA.}
(379)
unknown.[53] Piano and forte were rendered in the most varied degrees;
crescendo and diminuendo were first invented at Mannheim, and for a long
time other orchestras made no attempt at imitation;[54] other
means, too, such as the skilful blending of the wind and stringed
instruments,[55] were made the most of to produce a well-arranged,
finely gradationed whole.
The excellence of the Mannheim orchestra--whose performances excited as
much admiration among contemporaries[56] as those of the Paris orchestra
under Habeneck's conductor-ship in our own time--gained for it the
honour of taking a regular share in the Elector's concerts (p. 288).[57]
The band contained some of the first artists and virtuosi of the day,
such as Cannabich, Toeschi, Cramer, Stamitz, and Frànzel among the
violins, Wendling as a flute-player, Le Brun and Ramm as oboists, Ritter
as bassoonist, and Lang as hom-player. But its fame rested chiefly
on the excellent discipline of the orchestra, which, among so
many first-rate artists, it was no easy task to maintain.[58] The
kapellmeister at the time of Mozart's visit was Christian Cannabich
(1731-1798), who had succeeded Stamitz in 1775. His compositions were
doubtless overrated by his contemporaries; but he was admirable as a
solo violinist, and still better as an
MANNHEIM.
(380)
orchestral leader, besides being an excellent teacher. The majority of
the violinists in the Mannheim orchestra had issued from his school, and
to this was mainly owing the uniformity of their execution and delivery.
Cannabich, who was more of an organiser than an originator, had
experimented with every condition and device for producing instrumental
effects, and he laid special stress on technical perfection of
execution, in order to insure good tutti players. Uniting, as he
did, intelligence and a genius for direction[59] to "a true German
heart,"[60] and a moral and temperate life, he possessed the confidence
and esteem of his musicians, and was therefore the better able to bring
their performances to the highest excellence.
The many-sidedness of musical performances in Mannheim had helped to
form a very original taste, and Karl Theodor himself was careful to
encourage composers and virtuosi of all kinds.[61] The groundwork, both
of thought and instruction, was Italian certainly; but the fact that
the care of musical affairs was intrusted to German musicians, had an
influence of its own, even before the national element had asserted its
supremacy in Germany. French influence, too, made itself felt side by
side with the Italian; the connection maintained by the Elector
Palatine with the court of Versailles was profitable in every way to his
musicians. Finally, the partiality for instrumental music which we have
already noted must have tended to give an independent impulse to musical
production in Mannheim.
His stay in a town so thoroughly and genuinely musical,[62] must have
had a more abiding effect upon Mozart than was exercised by Salzburg,
Augsburg, or even Munich. He came to Mannheim at a time when the minds
of men were full of fresh and eager aspirations after artistic and
literary
{CHR. DANNER.}
(381)
excellence; and fortunately for him the interest was mainly centred on
his own peculiar province--the drama. We cannot imagine, however, that
he was dazzled or abashed by the wealth of musical knowledge, or by the
accomplishments of the noted musicians with whom he came in contact;
his confidence in his own powers preserved him from any feeling of
constraint or distrust. At first he was surprised at the small amount
of attention which his presence excited. On the day after his arrival he
made the acquaintance of the violinist, Chr. Danner (b. 1745), and went
with him to rehearsal.[63] "I thought that I should not be able to keep
from laughing, when I was introduced to people. Some of them, who knew
me _per renommée_, were polite and respectful; but the rest, who did
not know anything of me, stared at me in the most ludicrous manner. They
think because I am little and young that there can be nothing great or
old in me; but they shall soon see." Mozart always resented, even
in later years, any reference to his small stature and unimposing
appearance, even when it was made by way of contrast to his great
performances.
His predictions were verified. It was not long before he had gained the
esteem and admiration of the Mannheim musicians, the ready goodwill
with which he placed his talents and services at their disposal, and
his cheerfulness and good breeding in society, rendering him a universal
favourite. His spirits rose in proportion as the memory of his position
at Salzburg faded from his mind. Even from Munich he wrote to his father
(September 26, 1777): "I am always in the best of spirits. I feel as
light as a feather since I left all that chicanery behind! I am fatter,
too, already." At Mannheim, in daily intercourse with cultivated
artists, he
{MANNHEIM.}
(382)
must have felt completely at his ease. The members of the band were
well paid[64] and well treated; Karl Theodor's love of music and general
affability gave them considerable freedom of position, and intercourse
with their circle was liberal and pleasant. Schubart declares that the
houses, tables, and hearts of all the musicians were open to him during
the whole of his stay, and that he had his share in their practisings
and their festivities.[65] Mozart's experience was the same; although,
his stay being longer, he could not fail to observe that the superficial
frivolity of court life had affected the tone even of the artistic
circles.[66]
His friendly reception by Cannabich led to an intimate friendship and
daily intercourse with the whole family, in which Wolfgang's mother was
included. He often dined with them, and no long time elapsed before he
found himself "_al solito_" at supper and spending the evening with the
Cannabichs; they chatted, played a little sometimes, or Wolfgang used
to take a book out of his pocket and read. Occasionally the party became
merrier and not quite so decorous, as the following mock confession made
by Wolfgang to his father will show (November 14,1777):--
I, Johannes Chrisostomus Amadeus Wolfgangus Sigismundus Mozart, do
hereby confess that both yesterday and the day before (and on various
other occasions) I remained out until twelve o'clock at night; and that
from ten o'clock until the above-named hour I was at Cannabich's house,
in company with Cannabich, his wife and daughter, Herr Schatzmeister,
Herr Ramm, and Herr Lang, making rhymes and perpetrating bad jokes
in thought and word, but not in deed. But I should not have conducted
myself in so godless a fashion had not the ringleader of the sport, the
above-named daughter, Liesel, incited and abetted me therein; and I must
acknowledge that I found it extremely amusing. I bewail all these my
sins and transgressions from the bottom of my heart; and, hoping to
confess the same thing very frequently, I make an earnest resolution to
amend my former sinful life. I therefore beg for a dispensation, that is
if it is an easy one; if not, it is all the same to me, for the game is
not like to come to an end very soon.
{THE CANNABICH FAMILY.}
(383)
That Mozart was always ready when music was wanted we cannot doubt; on
one of his first visits to Cannabich he played all his six sonatas one
after the other. Cannabich was not slow to recognise his extraordinary
talent, nor to make use of it on occasion, as when Wolfgang made good
clavier arrangements of his ballets for him. But self-interest had no
share in the feelings with which he came to regard Wolfgang; both he and
his wife loved him as their own son, threw themselves zealously into all
that concerned his wellbeing, and watched over him as true friends.
The magnet which attracted Wolfgang to the house at first, and kept him
chained there for a time, was Cannabich's eldest daughter Rosa, who
was then thirteen, "a pretty, charming girl," as Wolfgang writes to his
father (December 16,1777); "she has a staid manner and a great deal of
sense for her age; she speaks but little, and when she does speak it is
with grace and amiability."[67] The day after his arrival (October 31)
she played something to him; he thought her playing good, and began to
compose a sonata for her, as a mark of attention to Cannabich. The first
allegro was ready on the same day. "Young Danner asked me" he continues,
"what I meant to do for the andante. 'I mean to make it exactly like
Mdlle. Rose herself.' When I played it they were all wonderfully
pleased. Young Danner said afterwards, 'You were quite right; the
andante is exactly like her.'" On November 8 he wrote the rondo at
Cannabich's, "consequently they would not let me away again. Mdlle.
Rose's talent gained in interest for him when, on studying this sonata
with her, he found that it had been neglected. "The right hand is very
good, but the left is utterly ruined; if I were her regular master I
would lay aside all music, cover the keys with a handkerchief, and make
her practise passages, shakes, &c., first with the right
{MANNHEIM.}
(384)
hand and then with the left, slowly to begin with until the hands were
perfectly independent; after that I believe I should make an excellent
player of her." The regular lessons followed in due time; he gave an
hour daily to the young lady, and was very well satisfied with the
result. "Yesterday she gave me indescribable pleasure," he writes
(December 6,1777), "by playing my sonata most beautifully. The andante
(a slow one) was full of feeling; she enjoys playing it." His father
thought the sonata wonderfully good (December 11, 1777); there was a
little of the Mannheim affected taste in it, but not enough to spoil
Wolfgang's own good style.
Another musician with whom Mozart entered into very friendly relations
was the distinguished flute-player, Joh. Bapt. Wendling. Cannabich
introduced him; "every one was as polite as could be" he informs
his father. "The daughter Augusta, who was at one time the Elector's
mistress, plays the clavier well.[68] Afterwards I played. I was in an
excellent humour, and played everything out of my head, and three duets
with the violin, which I had never seen before in my life, and the name
of whose author I did not even know. They were all so delighted that
I was obliged--to kiss the ladies! I had no objection as far as the
daughter was concerned, for she is not by any means ugly." He composed a
French song for this Mdlle. Gustl, of whom Wieland said that she was so
like one of Raphael's or Carlo Dolce's Madonnas, that he could hardly
refrain from addressing a "Salve Regina" to her.[69] She had given him
the words, and her delivery of them was so charming that the song was
called for every day "at Wendling's," and they all "raved about it." He
promised to compose some more for her, and one at least was begun at
a later time.[70] An aria with recitative was also sketched out for
Dorothea Wendling, the mother; she had herself selected the words from
{FLUTE AND OBOE CONCERTOS.}
(385)
Metastasio's "Didone" (II. 4), "Ah! non lasciarmi no, bell' idol mio,"
and she, as well as her daughter, "went wild over this song." It was
Mozart's custom in sketching his songs to write out the bass entire, and
even some indications of the accompaniment, so that the song could
be sung and in some measure accompanied from the sketch. Whether this
particular song was ever completed we do not know. Mozart did not forget
Wendling himself. We are told that a concerto of his was rehearsed at
Cannabich's, to which Mozart had arranged the instruments (November 22,
1777). He had a dislike to the flute and a mistrust of flute-players,
but he made an exception in favour of Wendling. When Wend-ling's brother
teased him for this he said: "Yes, but you see, it is quite another
thing with your brother. He is not a piper, and one need not be always
in terror for fear the next note should be too high or too low--_he_ is
always right, you see; his heart and his ear and the tip of his tongue
are all in the right place, and he does not imagine that blowing and
making faces is all that is needed; he knows too what adagio means."[71]
Wolfgang presented his oboe concerto to the oboist Friedr. Ramm (b.
1744), whom he met at Cannabich's, and who "went wild" over it (November
4, 1777). He made it his _cheval de bataille_, playing it five times
during the same winter (February 13, 1778) with great success, "although
it was known to be by me."
Mozart soon became universally liked and admired, as well for his
readiness and good-nature in composing as for his performances on the
organ and clavier; but we hear nothing more of his violin-playing. He
gave a humorous description to his father of the effect made by his
organ-playing soon after his arrival in Mannheim (November 13, 1777)
Last Sunday I played the organ in the chapel for a joke. I came in
during the Kyrie, played the end of it, and, after the priest had given
out the Gloria, I made a cadenza. Nothing like it had ever been heard
here before, so that everybody looked round, especially Holzbauer. He
{MANNHEIM.}
(386)
said to me, "If I had only known I would have chosen another mass."
"Yes," said I, "in order to do for me altogether." Old Toeschi (the
concertmeister) and Wendling stood near me. The people were inclined to
laugh, because every now and then, when I wanted a _pizzicato_ effect, I
gave little bangs to the notes. I was in my best humour. A voluntary
is always played here instead of the Benedictus; I took the idea of the
Sanctus and carried it out as a fugue. There they all stood and made
faces. At the end, after the Missa est, I played another fugue. The
pedal is different from ours, and that puzzled me a little at first, but
I soon got used to it.
When the new organ in the Lutheran Church was tried (December 18) all
the kapellmeisters were invited, and Wolfgang's mother writes how a
distinguished Lutheran came and invited him also. He admired the organ
both in _pieno_ and in its single stops, but he disliked Vogler, who
played it; he would not play much himself, only a prelude and fugue, but
he arranged to go again with a party of friends, and then he meant to
"have some rare fun on the organ." In the Reformed Church also, where
the organ was considered a remarkably fine one,[72] he once played to a
friend for an hour and a half.
The great admiration he excited as a clavier-player is described by his
mother (December 28, 1777):--
Wolfgang is made much of everywhere; but he plays quite differently from
what he does at Salzburg, for there are nothing but pianofortes here,
and you never heard anything like the way he manages them; in a word,
every one that hears him declares that his equal is not to be found.
Although Beecké has been here, as well as Schubart, they all agree that
he surpasses them both in beauty of tone, in gusto, and delicacy; and
what they most admire is his playing out of his head whatever is laid
before him.
Clavier-playing was less esteemed in Mannheim than proficiency on an
orchestral instrument, and Peter Winter, a true representative of the
Mannheim band, could not play the clavier at all, and could not abide
such jingling noise, as he used to tell his friends.[73] But Mozart had
plenty of opportunity for comparing himself with other clavier-players.
{VOGLER AS A VIRTUOSO.}
(387)
The Abbé Joh. Fr. Xav. Sterkel (1750-1817), one of the most celebrated
performers of the day, came from Mayence (where he was pianist and
chaplain to the Elector)[74] during Mozart's stay at Mannheim. "Last
evening but one," he informs his father (December 26, 1777), "I was _al
solito_ at Cannabich's, and Sterkel came in. He played five duets,
but so quick as to be unintelligible, and neither distinctly nor in
time--they all said so. Mdlle. Cannabich played the sixth, and she
really did it better than Sterkel."
The same fault that he found with Sterkel, viz., the endeavour to make
an effect by rapid execution and playing at sight, in reality a mere
device to hide imperfect execution, Mozart found also with the playing
of Vogler (1749-1814), the solitary clavier performer resident at
Mannheim.
He tells his father (January 17, 1778) of his meeting Vogler at a large
party:--
After dinner he had his two claviers brought, which were tuned together,
and also his tiresome printed sonatas. I was obliged to play them, and
he accompanied me on the other clavier. I was obliged, at his pressing
request, to have my sonatas brought also. Before dinner he had stumbled
through my concerto--the Litzau one (246 K.)--_prima vista_;[75] the
first movement went prestissimo, the andante allegro, and the rondo
really prestissimo. He played almost throughout a different bass to
the one that was written, and sometimes the harmonies, and even the
melodies, were altered. Indeed, this was inevitable, owing to the great
speed: the eye could not see and the hand could not grasp the music. But
what kind of playing at sight is that? The hearers (those
I mean, who are worthy of the name) can only say that they have _seen_
music and clavier-playing. They hear and think and _feel_ just as little
as the performer himself. You can imagine that the worst part of it to
me is not being able to say: _Much too quick_. After all, it is much
easier to play fast than slow; notes can be dropped out of passages
without being noticed; but is that desirable? The rapidity allows the
right and left hand to be used indiscriminately: but should that be so?
In what does the art of playing at sight consist? In playing the piece
correctly, in strict time, giving the proper expression to every
{MANNHEIM.}
(388)
passage and every note, so that it might be imagined that the player had
composed the piece himself. Vogler's fingering is atrocious; his left
thumb is like Adlgasser's, and he makes all the runs for the right hand
with his first finger and thumb.
Mozart's antipathy to Vogler shines through this description, and is
equally apparent whenever he has occasion to mention him. Personally he
had nothing to complain of in Vogler: "Herr Vogler positively insisted
on making my acquaintance," he writes to his father (January 17, 1778);
"after plaguing me very often to go to him, he put his pride in his
pocket and paid me the first visit." No assurance will be needed that
the rivalry of the two in composition, organ and clavier-playing, would
not lead Mozart to disparage great merit where it existed. It might have
contributed to sharpen his judgment, which, however, was essentially the
same as that passed on Vogler by the whole orchestra, "from the highest
to the lowest." He was regarded as an interloper, who had usurped an
important position in Mannheim, and had intrigued against such men as
Holzbauer for the purpose; the violet stockings which he wore as papal
legate were thought absurd;[76] and his habit of taking a prayer-book
into society, together with his music, and of frequently keeping
visitors waiting while he performed his devotions, was considered
mere affectation;[77] many complaints were made of his haughty and
depreciatory manner; and his own performances fell far short of the
expectations excited by himself.
But apart from all influence of partisanship or gossip, it is quite
conceivable that two such diverse natures should exercise a mutual
repulsion on each other. Vogler was no doubt an original and striking
character; the very fact that his contemporaries were either his
enthusiastic admirers or his sworn enemies affords proof of this. He
possessed musical talent, intellect and shrewdness, together with much
energy of character, so that his attainments were extensive both in the
arts and sciences.
{VOGLER's CHARACTER.}
(389)
But these qualities, uncombined with creative genius, could not reach
the highest beauty and truth, either in art or science. We find Vogler,
therefore, in whom creative genius did not exist, seeking for effect
in the technicalities of his art, and as a consequence, in something
outside the art itself. He prided himself especially on his programme
music,[78] which was full of purely sensuous effects, and on his
playing, which was crowded with theoretical difficulties. The principal
charm was in both cases imported from without, not an essential product
of the art itself. Vogler was the first to give this direction to
musical activity, striving to hide a deficiency in creative power under
general cultivation of mind, and, as a necessary result, hampering
the natural development of true art. His celebrated pupils Weber and
Meyerbeer have rendered the same tendency fruitful in consequences to
modern music. A consistent endeavour after what is true and beautiful
in art presupposes a singleness of mind in the artist which cannot
exist with inordinate ambition and a calculating spirit. In truth the
contradictions in Vogler's moral nature, which were remarked even by his
adherents,[79] were as striking as those in his artistic nature. If
we consider the impression such a man must have made on Mozart, whose
creative genius was its own measure and law, penetrating the very
essence of his being, and elevating even the drudgery of his profession
to the freedom of high art, we can comprehend how he would instinctively
recoil from Vogler; and how his own severe education, which had elevated
and refined his nature without injuring his healthy love of truth, would
prevent his doing full justice to his rival's merits. There can be
no doubt that Mozart's opinion of Vogler, which he took no pains to
conceal, gave great offence to the latter; but there is no evidence that
he "plotted against him," as the father conjectures, nor does Wolfgang
himself make any such accusation. Among Vogler's adherents in Mannheim
was Peter Winter (1755-1826) who was "almost the only
{MANNHEIM.}
(390)
friend, that is the only intimate friend, that Vogler had." His daily
offerings to Vogler's vanity were much to be regretted;[80] he objected,
however, in after-days to be called Vogler's pupil.[81] He seems to
have taken a dislike to Mozart, which the latter had cause to feel very
sensibly.
The remaining members of the orchestra, however, were only the more
attracted to Mozart by the position which he assumed in regard to
Vogler. Wendling and Ramm meditated a journey to Paris during Lent, and
Ritter, the bassoonist, was to precede them thither; they intended to
give concerts together, and Wendling proposed to Wolfgang to accompany
them, since such a composer and virtuoso as he would immeasurably
strengthen their company. Wolfgang was strongly inclined to consent, and
wrote to his father (December 3, 1777):--
If I stay here until Lent, I shall accompany Wendling, Ramm the oboist
(and a very fine one), and Lauchery, the ballet manager, to Paris. Herr
Wendling assures me that I shall have no cause to repent it. He has been
twice in Paris (has only lately returned), and says it is the only place
where fame and money can be made. "You are a man," says he, "who can do
anything. I will show you how to set about it: you must compose operas,
serious and comic, oratorios, and everything." Whoever has written a
couple of operas in Paris is a made man at once; then there are the
Concerts Spirituels, and the Académie des Amateurs, where you get five
louis d'ors for a symphony. If you give lessons, it is at the rate of
three louis d'ors for twelve. Sonatas, trios, and quartets are printed
by subscription. Cannabich and Toeschi send a great deal of their music
to Paris. Wendling is a man who understands travelling. Pray write me
your opinion on the subject. It seems to me a good idea. I shall travel
with a man who knows the Paris of the present day thoroughly, for it
has altered very much. I should spend little, indeed I think not half
so much as now, for I should only have to pay for myself; mamma would
remain here, and probably stay with the Wendlings. Herr Ritter, who
plays the bassoon very well, sets out for Paris on the 12th inst. Ramm
is a right honest, merry fellow of about thirty-five; he has travelled
much, and knows the world well. The greatest and best musicians here
like and esteem me. I am always called Herr Kapellmeister.
Wolfgang's mother was not opposed to the project; she writes to her
husband (December 11, 1777):--
{PLANS FOR A JOURNEY TO PARIS.}
(391)
About Wolfgang and his journey to Paris you must consider what is
right: nowadays Paris is the only place to get on. Herr Wendling is an
honourable man, well known to all: he has travelled much, and been in
Paris thirteen times, so that he knows it thoroughly; our friend Herr
von Grimm is his best friend also, and has done much for him. So you
must decide as you like--I shall be ready to agree. Herr Wendling has
assured me that he would act as Wolfgang's father. He loves him as his
own son, and will, I am sure, take as good care of him as I do. You can
well imagine that I am averse to parting from him; and if I have to come
home alone, the long journey will be a great trial to me: but what can
be done? The journey to Paris would be more fatiguing and too expensive;
for one does not spend a fourth part travelling alone.
If this plan was to be carried out, Wolfgang must remain at Mannheim
through the winter. His first endeavour, therefore, was to obtain a
situation in the band from the Elector, and his friends eagerly seconded
his efforts. Holz-bauer had taken him soon after his arrival to the
manager, Count Savioli (November 4, 1777),where Cannabich chanced to be
present:--
Herr Holzbauer said to the Count in Italian that I wished for the honour
of playing before his Highness the Elector: I had been here fifteen
years before, when I was eight years old; I was now older and taller,
and my music had improved also. "Ah," said the Count, "that is young-,"
somebody or other for whom he mistook me. Then
Cannabich began to speak. I pretended not to listen, and talked to some
one else, but I noticed that he spoke very earnestly. Then the Count
said to me, "I hear that you play fairly well on the clavier."
I made an obeisance.
The Elector happened to be holding court at the time, and Count Savioli
at once presented Wolfgang to the Electress, who received him very
graciously, and remembered his being there fifteen years before, though
she would not have recognised him. On November 6 there was a grand
state concert, at which Mozart played a concerto, and before the closing
symphony a sonata, and something "out of his head":--
The Elector and his wife and all the court were pleased with me. At
the concert, every time I played she and the Elector came quite near my
clavier. After the concert, Cannabich intimated that I might speak to
the Elector. I kissed hands, and he said, "I think it is fifteen years
{MANNHEIM.}
(392)
since you were here before?" "Yes, your highness; fifteen years since I
had the honour"--"You play remarkably well." When I kissed the hand of
the Princess she said, "Monsieur, je vous assure, on ne peut pas jouer
mieux."
The Electress informed him that she should like him to play to her
alone, and they were obliged to remain until the command to do so
should arrive. Some days after, Count Savioli handed him his present,
a beautiful gold watch; ten gold caroli would, however, have been more
useful to him than the watch, which was valued at twenty. "I have now
with your permission five watches. I have a great mind to have a pocket
made on each side, and to wear two watches (which is the fashion now) so
that it may not occur to any one to give me another."
In his father's opinion Wolfgang would do wrong to remain in Mannheim
any longer than necessary, unless he had certain prospects of a
situation there; his good friends could watch over any future interests
in his absence, and he ought not to lose the opportunity of making
himself known in different places, and of earning money. According
to intelligence received from Frankfort, there was nothing to be made
there; but at Mayence, with the support of the concertmeister, Georg
Ant. Kreuser, concerts might be arranged both in private, before the
enthusiastically musical Elector, and in the town.[82] Something, too,
might be made at Coblentz out of the Elector Clemens, between whom and
the Elector Wolfgang had sat at table and composed with a pencil in
Munich, when they were returning from England (p. 48). Nothing could be
done in Bonn.
They might return to Mannheim after such expeditions as these, if there
was any prospect of remaining there over the winter. Paris must only
be thought of as a last resource; it would be a difficult and a risky
undertaking. To L. Mozart, who was continually revolving schemes in his
mind, it seemed in no way right that the travellers should have settled
themselves so comfortably at Mannheim. Wolfgang, finding himself for the
first time in a congenial
{THE ELECTOR.}
(393)
professional atmosphere, and in familiar intercourse with cultivated
minds, was only too ready to hearken when every one said to him: "Where
can you go in the winter? The season is too bad for travelling; stay
here!" And then the prospects which so many good friends opened to him
appeared to him in no wise uncertain. His mother allowed herself to be
led by her son and his friends, and was easily persuaded that to stay in
Mannheim would be most advantageous for Wolfgang.
The Elector had ordered Mozart to be conducted before his natural
children, whom he visited for some hours every afternoon, taking great
interest in their studies. Mozart, who was accompanied by Cannabich,
thus describes the interview (November 8, 1777):--
I talked to the Elector quite familiarly. He is both gracious and good.
He said to me, "I hear that you wrote an opera at Munich." "Yes, your
highness. I humbly crave your grace, it is my greatest wish to write an
opera here. I pray your highness not to forget me. I can write German,
too, God be praised." Well, that may happen.[83] He has one son and
three daughters;[84] the eldest and the young Count play the clavier. The
Elector consulted me quite confidentially about his children. I spoke
quite openly, but without blaming their master. Cannabich was of my
opinion, too. When the Elector left he thanked me very politely.
Some days after he went again, and "played with his whole heart" three
times at the request of the Elector, who sat by him "motionless"; a
certain professor gave him a subject for a fugue. This seemed the surest
way to the favour of the Elector. At Cannabich's instigation, as he
tells his father (who counted on Cannabich's friendship,
{MANNHEIM.}
(394)
his interest being concerned on his daughter's account), he asked Count
Savioli whether the Elector would not keep him there during the winter,
and he would engage to give the children lessons. Cannabich promised
to propose and support this plan to the Elector, but he must wait until
after the gala days, and then the best results might be expected. But a
thing like this must not be hurried, and patience would be required,
as Wolfgang informs his father, and admonishes him not to lose time
in speculations, which generally prove useless. In the meantime he had
drawn on the banker for 150 gulden, "for the host would rather hear the
jingle of money than of music."
This did not in any way please Wolfgang's father, who delivers a sharp
reproof for his thoughtless expression as to the father's speculation
being useless. "Gerechter Gott!" he writes, "you tell me not to
speculate when I am in debt already on your account 450 florins, and
you think you will put me in good humour by writing all sorts of absurd
nonsense." He shows them how little use they have made of their time so
far, and scolds them for not announcing their plans beforehand, so that
proper preparations could be made. "I beg you, my dear Wolfgang, to be
more thoughtful, and not to wait to write about things until they are
past; otherwise all will go wrong." He points out how they have been
living hitherto almost entirely on hope, leaving to him the care of the
money which they required; he had not even received the accounts which
his dear wife had promised him, and they had drawn money without giving
him proper notice:--
A journey like this is no joke: you have not felt it hitherto. You must
have something more serious in your head than nonsense: you have to
foresee, to consider, to calculate, or else you will find yourself in
a mess, without money--and no money means no friends, even if you give
lessons a hundred times over, and compose sonatas, and play the fool
every night from ten to twelve o'clock. Ask these friends of yours
for credit! All the jokes will come to an end, and the most jocular
countenance will turn grave on a sudden.
Hereupon followed a very vague money account from the wife (December 11,
1777):--