Mozart: A Life in Letters: A Life in Letters (27 page)

Then a trio by Hafeneder
⁴
on the violin. I’d like to have played more on the violin but was so badly accompanied that it gave me the colic. He was very friendly and said we should spend the rest of the day together and go to the theatre and then have supper together. We enjoyed ourselves enormously. When we returned from the theatre, I again played until it was time to eat. We then went in to supper. He’d already asked me about my cross that morning. I explained to him quite clearly what it was and how I’d got it. He and his brother-in-law said more than once: we should get our own crosses so we can become members of Herr Mozart’s Corporation. But I paid them no attention. And more than once they called me sir and addressed me as knight of the spur. I said nothing. But during supper it really became too much. How much does it cost? 3 ducats?– – Do you have to have permission to wear it? – – Does this permission cost something too? We really must get our own crosses; a certain officer was there, Baron Bach, who said: Fie, you should be ashamed of yourselves, what would you do with the cross? That young ass Kurzenmantl
⁵
winked at him. I saw him. He noticed. Everyone went very quiet; he then gave me some snuff and said: Here, take a pinch. I said nothing. Finally he started making fun of me again: I’ll send someone round tomorrow and perhaps you’ll be good enough to lend me your cross for a moment, I’ll send it straight back, it’s just so that I can speak to the goldsmith. I’m sure that if I ask him what it’s worth – he’s quite an odd character – he’ll say about a Bavarian thaler. It’s certainly not worth any more, as it’s not gold but copper, ha ha! No, no, I said, it’s tin, ha ha! I was burning with anger and rage. But tell me, he said, I suppose I can leave out the spur? – – Oh yes, I said; you don’t need it, you’ve already got one in your head.
⁶
I’ve got one of my own, but it’s different from yours. I certainly wouldn’t like to swap it with yours. Here, take a pinch of snuff.I gave him some snuff. He turned rather pale. But then he began again: it looked good recently on your expensive waistcoat. I said nothing.

Finally he called out
to his servant
, Hey, you’ll have to show us more respect when the two of us – me and my brother-in-law – wear Herr Mozart’s cross. Here, take a pinch of snuff on that; that’s odd, I began, as though I’d not heard what he’d said, but I can sooner get all the orders that you can get than you can become what I am, even if you were to die twice and be reborn. Here, take a pinch of snuff on that, and I stood up. They all stood up and were deeply embarrassed. I took my hat and sword and said I’d have the pleasure of seeing them the next day. Oh, I’m not here tomorrow. Then I’ll come the day after tomorrow, if I’m still here. Oh, surely you won’t – – I won’t. It’s like an almshouse here. In the meantime, goodbye.
And with that I was gone
. The next day, the 15th, I told Herr Stein, Herr
Gignoux
⁷
and Director Graf all that had happened – not about the cross but that I was utterly disgusted at being taken in by their promises about a concert and how it had all come to nothing. This is what’s called making a fool of people and taking them in. I sincerely regret having come here. Never in my whole life would I have believed that in Papa’s native town of Augsburg his son would be so insulted. Papa can’t imagine how sorry and angry the 3 of them were. Oh, you must give a concert here. We don’t need the patricians. But my mind was made up; and I said yes, I’ll give a small farewell concert at Herr
Stein’s
for my few good friends here, who are connoisseurs. The director was utterly dismayed. It’s appalling, he exclaimed; it’s a disgrace – – who’d have imagined it of Langenmantel – –
Pardieu
, if he’d wanted to, it could have been arranged. We parted. Wearing his dressing gown, the director accompanied me downstairs and as far as the front door. Herr
Stein
and Herr Gignoux – who sends Papa his best wishes – walked home with me. They urged us to stay here a little while longer; but our minds were made up. Now Papa must know that after mumbling his news about the concert as if it were a matter of total indifference, young Herr Langenmantel told me that the patricians are inviting me to their concert next Thursday. I said I’d go along and listen. Oh, won’t you give us the pleasure of hearing
you play? – –
Well, who knows? Why not?
But I was so insulted the following evening that I decided not to return there but to let the whole of the town’s patricians lick my arse, and then leave. On Thursday, the 16th, while we were eating, I was called out; it was one of Langenmantel’s girls wanting to know if I was definitely going with him to the concert. – – And would I call on him immediately after lunch? I sent him my most humble regards, adding that I was not going to the concert and couldn’t call on him as I was already spoken for –
as was indeed true
. But I’d go there the next day and say goodbye to him as I was leaving on Saturday at the latest. Meanwhile, Herr
Stein
had run off to the other patricians in the Evangelical camp and harangued them so pitilessly that they were quite terrified. What, they said, are we to allow a man who does us so much honour to leave without hearing him? Herr von Langenmantel must think that it’s enough that he’s heard him himself.
Enfin
, they got so worked up that our good young Herr von Kurzenmantel had to go and see Herr
Stein
in person and beg him on everyone’s behalf to do his utmost to persuade me to go to the concert. I wasn’t to expect anything much
et caetera
. And so, after a great deal of hesitation, I went off with him. The leading members of the nobility were perfectly polite, especially a local official, Baron Rehlingen, who’s also a director or some such beast. He even unpacked my music. I’d also taken a symphony
⁸
with me. They played it, I sat with the violins. But the orchestra here is enough to drive you mad. That young fop Langenmantel was perfectly polite, but he still had a contemptuous look. He said to me: I really thought you’d give us the slip. I even thought you might have been annoyed at our recent joke. Oh, not at all, I said, you’re still young. But you should be more careful in future. I’m not used to jokes of that kind. And the subject that you were laughing at does you no credit whatsoever, quite apart from the fact that it was pointless as I’m still wearing it. You should have joked about something else. I assure you, he said, it was only my brother-in-law who – – Forget it, I said. We almost didn’t have the pleasure of seeing you. Yes, if it hadn’t been for Herr
Stein
, I’d
certainly not have come; and to tell you the truth, I’ve come only so that you, the good people of Augsburg, wouldn’t be laughed at in other countries if I were to say that I’d been in my father’s home town for a week without anyone taking the trouble to hear me. I played a concerto.
⁹
Apart from the accompaniment, it all went well. To end with, I played another sonata. Then Baron Rehlingen thanked me most politely in the name of the whole company and asked me to note only their good will, and with that he gave me 2 ducats. But I’m still not being left in peace, I’m supposed to give a public concert between now and Sunday – – perhaps – – but I’m already so sickened of the whole affair I can’t even begin to tell you. I’ll be glad to move on to a place where there’s a court! I can say quite truthfully that if it weren’t for my dear uncle and aunt and my lovely cousin, I’d have as many regrets at coming to Augsburg as I have hairs on my head. I must now say something about my dear mistress cousin,
¹⁰
but I’ll save this up till tomorrow as one has to be in a very good mood to praise her as much as she deserves.

I’m writing this on the morning of the 17th and assure you that our little cousin is beautiful, intelligent, delightful, clever and good fun; and it’s all because she gets around a lot. She also spent some time in Munich. It’s true, the two of us are well matched as she too is a bit naughty. We both have a good laugh at people, which is great fun. Please don’t forget the address of the bishop of Chiemsee. I think I’ll send the letter for Gaetano Santoro to Myslivecek today, as we agreed. He’s already given me his address. Please write to poor Myslivecek soon as I know that he’ll be very pleased to hear from you. In my next letter I’ll tell you about Stein’s pianofortes and organs and principally about the
Stube
concert. The nobility was out in force, Duchess Arsespank, Countess Pisslike and Princess Shitsniff with her 2 daughters, who are already married to the 2 Princes Potbelly of Pigtail. Farewell, all of you. I kiss Papa’s hands 100, 000 times and embrace my scoundrel of a sister with bearlike tenderness and am your most obedient son

Wolfgang Amadé Mozart

[
Postscript added by his cousin
]

Dearest Uncle,

I can’t begin to tell you how pleased I was at the safe arrival of my aunt and such a delightful cousin, and my only regret is that we’ll soon be losing such noble friends, who’ve shown us such kindness, we’re only sorry not to have had the good fortune to see you here with my aunt; my parents send their most humble good wishes to my uncle and cousin and hope that you’re well, something we shall always hope, please give my best wishes to my cousin and ask her always to remain friends with me, just as I flatter myself that she may always be well disposed towards me, I have the honour of sending you my best wishes and of remaining, most respectfully,

Your devoted servant

and cousin M A Mozart

Father can’t remember if he told you that on 31 May 1777 he gave Herr Lotter 4 copies of your violin tutor and another 2 on 13 Aug. 1777.

[
Mozart’s postscript on the envelope
]

Monsieur Novac arrived here today and sends you all his best wishes. Especially to Mlle Katherl. Next time I’ll write a more cheerful letter. Next Wednesday I’m giving a concert in Count Fugger’s hall. My dear cousin sends you her best wishes. All 3 of us are now going to Herr
Stein’s
for lunch. The only thing that worries me is the accompaniment at my concert as the orchestra here is truly awful. I must close as it’s already 11 o’clock. I kiss Papa’s hands 100, 000 times, and I embrace my sister, like it or not, I am, I wot, not cold or hot,

your most obedient son W. A. Mozart

Best wishes
a tutti tutti tutti

Mon très cher Pèe,

I must start with Stein’s pianofortes. Before I saw any of Stein’s work, I’d always preferred Späth’s
¹
pianos; but now I prefer Stein’ as they damp so much better than the Regensburg instruments. If I strike hard, it doesn’t matter whether I keep my finger down or raise it, the sound ceases the moment I produce it. However I attack the keys, the tone is always even. It doesn’t produce a clattering sound, it doesn’t get louder or softer or fail to sound at all; in a word, it’s always even. It’s true, he won’t part with a pianoforte like this for under 300 florins, but the effort and labour that he expends on it can’t be paid for. A particular feature of his instruments is their escape action. Not one maker in a hundred bothers with this. But without escape action it’s impossible for a pianoforte not to produce a clattering sound or to go on sounding after the note has been struck; when you strike the keys, his hammers fall back again the moment they hit the strings, whether you hold down the keys or release them. He told me that only when he’s finished making a piano like this does he sit down and try out all the passagework, runs and leaps, and, using a shave, works away at the instrument until it can do everything. For he works only to serve the music, not just for his own profit, otherwise he’d be finished at once.

He often says that if he weren’t such a great music lover and didn’t have some slight skill on the instrument, he’d long since have run out of patience with his work; but he loves an instrument that never lets the player down and that will last. His pianos will really last. He guarantees that the sounding board won’t break or crack. Once he’s finished making a sounding board for a piano he puts it outside, exposing it to the air, rain, snow, heat of the sun and all the devils in order for it to crack, and then he inserts wedges, which he glues in, so that it’s very strong and firm. He’s perfectly happy for it to crack as he’s then assured that nothing more can happen to it. Indeed, he
often cuts into it himself and then glues it back together again and makes it really strong. He has completed three such pianofortes. Not until today did I play on one of them again. Today – the 17th – we had lunch with young Herr Gasser, a young and handsome widower who’s lost his young and beautiful wife. They’d been married for only 2 years. He’s a most excellent and polite young man. We were splendidly entertained. Also there was a colleague of Abbé Henri, Bullinger and Wieshofer, an ex-Jesuit who’s now Kapellmeister at the cathedral here. He knows Herr
Schachtner
²
very well, he was his choirmaster in Ingolstadt. He’s called Pater Gerbl.
³
I’m to give his best wishes to Herr Schachtner. After lunch Herr Gasser and I went to Herr
Stein’s
, where we were accompanied by one of his sisters-in-law as well as Mama and our cousin. At 4 o’clock we were joined by the Kapellmeister and Herr Schmidbaur, the organist at St Ulrich’s, a fine old gentleman who’s very well-spoken; and I then sight-read a sonata by Beecke
⁴
that was quite hard and
miserable al solito
;
⁵
I can’t begin to tell you how the Kapellmeister and organist crossed themselves. Both here and in Munich I’ve played my 6 sonatas many times from memory. I played the fifth one in G at the aristocrats’ concert in the Bauernstube.
⁶
The last one, in D, sounds amazing on
Stein’s
pianoforte. The device that you depress with your knee is also better made on his instrument than on others. I scarcely need to touch it and it works; and as soon as you remove your knee even a little, you no longer hear the slightest reverberation. Tomorrow I may get round to his organs – – I mean,
to write about them
; I’m saving up his little daughter till the end. When I told Herr
Stein
that I’d like to play on his organ as the organ was my passion, he was very surprised and said: What, a man like you, so great a keyboard player wants to play on an instrument that has no douceur, no expression, no piano
or forte but always sounds the same? – – None of that matters. In my eyes and ears the organ is the king of instruments. Well, as you like. We went off together. I could already tell from what he said that he didn’t think I’d do much on his organ and that – for example – I’d play in a way more suited to a piano. He told me that Schubart
⁷
had asked to be shown his organ, and I was afraid – he said – as Schubart had told everyone, and the church was quite full; for I thought he’d be all spirit, fire and speed, none of which works on the organ; but as soon as he started I changed my mind. I said only this: What do you think, Herr Stein? Do you think I’ll run all over the organ? – – Oh, you, that’s quite different. We reached the choir. I began to improvise, by which point he was already laughing, and then a fugue. I can well believe – he said – that you enjoy playing the organ if you play like that – – at first the pedal was a little strange as it wasn’t divided. It began with C, then D, E in the same row. But with us D and E are above, as E flat and F sharp are here. But I soon got used to it. I also played on the old organ at St Ulrich’s. The steps up to it are a nightmare. I asked if someone could play on it for me as I wanted to go down and listen. From up there the organ is totally ineffectual. But I could make nothing of it, as the young choirmaster, a priest, played only scales, so it was impossible to form any impression. And when he tried to play some chords, he produced only discords as it was out of tune. After that we had to go to a coffee-room as my mother and cousin and Herr Stein were with us. A certain Pater Aemilian,
⁸
an arrogant ass and a simpleton of his profession, was in an especially hearty mood. He kept wanting to joke with my cousin, but she just made fun of him – – finally, when he was drunk (which didn’t take long), he started to talk about music. He sang a
canon and I said I’d never in my whole life heard a finer one. I said I’m sorry, I can’t join in as I’ve no natural gift for intoning. That doesn’t matter, he said. He started. I was the third voice, but I made up some very different words, for example, O you prick, lick my arse.
Sotto voce
to my cousin. We laughed about it for half an hour. He said to me: if only we could have spent longer together. I’d like to discuss the art of composition with you. Then the discussion would soon be over, I said.
Get lost
. To be continued.