Читать книгу The Life of Mozart - Otto Jahn - Страница 21

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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. 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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:—

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.

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 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.

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

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 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 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 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 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.