Mozart: A Life in Letters: A Life in Letters (59 page)

I must ask my dear sister to forgive me for not having written
to congratulate her on her name day.
⁶
– The letter that I began is still lying in my drawer. – I’d just started it last Saturday when Countess Rumbeke’s servant called and said that they were all going off to the country and would I like to go too – because I don’t like to say no to Cobenzl,
⁷
I left the letter where it was, threw my things together and went with them. – I thought my sister wouldn’t take it amiss. – So, in the octave of her name day, I now wish her all the best and all that an honest brother who loves his sister with his whole heart could ever wish for her; and I kiss her most tenderly.

I returned with the count today and am driving out with him again tomorrow. – Farewell now, dearest, most beloved father! – Believe your son and trust in him, for he thinks only the best of all decent people; – and why shouldn’t he also cherish such feelings towards his dear father and sister? – – Believe in him and trust him more than you do certain people who have nothing better to do than to slander honest people – adieu now – I kiss your hands 1000 times and am ever you most obedient son

Wolfgang Amadè Mozart

On 30 July Mozart received from Stephanie the libretto of the Turkishthemed singspiel
Die Entführung aus dem Serail
(‘The Abduction from the Seraglio’), the plot of which revolves around the attempts of the hero, Belmonte (assisted by his servant Pedrillo), to rescue his beloved, Konstanze (and her maidservant, Blonde, Pedrillo’s beloved), from the Bassa Selim.

Mon très cher Père
,

I must be brief as I’ve just this minute finished the Janissary chorus
¹
and it’s already turned 12, and at 2 o’clock on the dot I’ve promised to drive out with the Auernhammers and Mlle Cavalieri
²
to Münchendorf near Laxenburg, where the camp now is. –

Adamberger,
³
Cavalieri and Fischer
⁴
are extremely pleased with their arias. – I had lunch yesterday with Countess Thun, and tomorrow I’ll be having lunch with her again. – I played her some of what I’ve written. – At the end she told me that she’d venture her life that people are bound to like what I’ve written so far. – On this point I pay no heed to anyone’s
praise or censure
at least until people have seen and heard the work
as a whole
; I simply follow
my own feelings
– but you can see from this how pleased she must have been to have said something like this. –

As I’ve nothing of any importance to tell you, I’ll pass on a terrible story that I heard – you may already know it; it’s known here as the Tyrolean tale. – I’m all the more interested in it as I know the unfortunate person concerned. I got to know him in Munich, where he even called on us every day. – His name is Herr von
Wibmer
and he’s a nobleman. I don’t know whether it was from misfortune or because of a natural propensity for the theatre, but some months ago he formed a troupe that he took with him to Innsbruck. –

One Sunday lunchtime, at 12 o’clock, this good man was walking quietly along the street, when some courtiers started to follow him; one of them – Baron Bulla by name – kept saying rude things about
him: the fool should teach his dancer to walk before he put her on the stage – and he called him all manner of names – Herr von Wibmer listened for a while, then naturally turned round. Bulla asks him why he’s looking at him. – The latter replies very good-naturedly. – Well, you’re looking at me;
it’s a free country, a person can look round if he wants to
. – And he goes on his way. – But Baron Bulla continues to call him names; finally it gets too much for the good man and he asks him who he’s referring to. – You, you cur, was the answer, accompanied by a regular cuff round the ear; Herr von Wibmer immediately gave as good as he got. – Neither man was wearing a sword, otherwise he’d most certainly not have replied in kind. – He returned home, very calmly, in order to tidy his hair – Baron Bulla had also seized him by the hair – and fully intending to put the case before the governor, Count Wolkenstein.
⁵
– But his house was already full of soldiers, and he was taken off to the main guardhouse; – no matter what he said, it made no difference and he was sentenced to 25 lashes on his backside. Finally he said: I’m a nobleman, I refuse to be beaten when I’m innocent, I’d rather become a soldier in order to have my revenge. – In Innsbruck there must be some stupid Tyrolean custom that no one can strike a gentleman, however much he may be in the right. – At this, he was taken to the local prison, where he was given not 25 but 50 lashes. – Before he lay on the bench, he said publicly: I’m innocent. And I appeal publicly to the emperor. But the corporal answered contemptuously: The gentleman can first have his 50 lashes, and then he can appeal. It was all over in 2 hours – by 2 o’clock. By the 5th lash, his breeches were already torn. – I’m surprised he was able to bear it. – In fact he was taken away unconscious. – He was laid up for 3 weeks. As soon as he’d recovered, he came straight to Vienna, where he’s anxiously awaiting the arrival of the emperor, who has already been informed about the whole affair, not only by people here but by his sister, the Archduchess Elisabeth,
⁶
who is in Innsbruck. –
Wibmer
himself has
a letter from her to the emperor. – The day before this happened, the president had received orders to punish no one, whoever it may be, without first informing people here. This makes the matter even worse. – The president really must be a very stupid and malicious oaf. – But – how can this man ever obtain adequate restitution? – The lashes will remain with him – if I were
Wibmer
, I’d demand the following restitution from the emperor. – He
⁷
must receive 50 lashes in the same place and in my presence – and he’d also have to give me 6000 ducats. – And if I couldn’t obtain this, I’d ask for no other but would run my sword through his heart at the first opportunity. I should add that he’s already been offered 3000 ducats not to go to Vienna and to hush up the affair. – The people of Innsbruck call Herr von Wibmer the man who was scourged for us and who will also redeem us. – Not a soul can stand him.
⁸
– The president’s house has been under guard all this time. – There’s a regular gospel about him here. – People are talking about nothing else. – I’m very sorry for the poor man, for he’s never really well. He’s always got a headache and a bad chest complaint.

Farewell now, I kiss your hands 1000 times and embrace my dear sister with all my heart. I am ever your most obedient son

W. A. Mzt

Best wishes to the Duscheks, whom I hope to see here.
Adieu
.

Mon très cher Père
,

I still can’t give you the address of my new apartment, as I haven’t got one yet; but I’m arguing over the price of two, one of which I shall certainly take as I can no longer stay here next month and must,
therefore, move out. – It seems that Herr von Auernhammer has written to you – and told you that I’ve already found an apartment!
¹
– I did indeed have one; but what a place! – It was fit for rats and mice, but not for human beings. – Even at midday you needed a lantern to find the stairs. And the room could best be described as a small closet and could be reached only through the kitchen. There was a little window in the door of my room, and although they assured me that they’d put up a curtain in front of it, they also asked me to draw it back as soon as I was dressed, as otherwise they wouldn’t be able to see anything either in the kitchen or in the adjacent rooms. – The lady of the house called it a rats’ nest; in a word, it was terrible. – It would have been a splendid place to receive the various distinguished people who come to see me. – The good man was thinking only of himself and his daughter, who’s the biggest
seccatrice
²
I know. As your last letter included a eulogy of this household worthy of Count Daun, I must tell you a little more about them; I would have passed over in silence all that you’re about to read and regarded it as a matter of indifference and as only a private and personal
seccatura
,
³
but as I discover from your letter that you have some confidence in this household, I see myself obliged to tell you quite candidly about their good and bad points. – He is the finest man you could ever hope to meet – too much so, in fact, for his wife, the stupidest and silliest gossip in the world, wears the trousers, so that whenever she speaks, he does not dare to say a word; whenever we’ve gone out walking together, he has asked me not to say anything in his wife’s presence to indicate that we’d taken a cab or drunk a glass of beer. – Well, I really can’t trust a man like that; he’s too insignificant in the eyes of his own family. – He’s a decent enough person and a good friend of mine; I’ve often been able to have lunch with him, but I’m not in the habit of allowing people to pay for
my favours
, not that a lunchtime bowl of soup would be adequate payment, of course, – but people like that think that it is. – It is not for my
own benefit that I set foot in their house but
for theirs
. Indeed, I see no profit whatsoever for myself; – and I’ve yet to meet a single person there whose name would be worth setting down on this sheet of paper. – They’re good people, but nothing more – people sensible enough to realize how useful to them is my acquaintance with their daughter, who, as everyone says who heard her play before, has changed completely since I’ve been seeing her. – I won’t attempt to describe her mother. Suffice it to say that at table it’s all one can do not to burst out laughing;
basta
; you know Frau Adlgasser; well, this
meuble
is even worse, as she’s also
médisante
,
⁴
in other words, stupid and malicious. On to the daughter, then: if a painter wanted to paint the devil to the life, he’d have to have recourse to her face. – She’s as fat as a farmgirl, sweats so much it makes you want to puke and goes around so scantily dressed that she might as well be carrying a sign:
Please look here
. True, there’s enough to see or, rather, enough to make you wish you were blind – you’re punished for the whole of the rest of the day if you’re unfortunate enough to look in her direction – you then need some tartar! – so disgusting, filthy and horrible! – Ugh! Well, I’ve already told you how she plays the piano and told you why she asked me to help her. – I’m more than happy to do favours for people, but not if they annoy me. – She’s not content for me to spend 2 hours a day with her; I’m expected to sit there all day long. – And she tries to give herself airs! – But, even worse, she’s
sérieusement
in love with me – I thought it was a joke, but now I know it for certain; – when I noticed it – because she was taking liberties with me – for example – she reproached me affectionately when I arrived later than usual or couldn’t stay any longer and other such things – and so I saw myself obliged, in order not to make her look foolish, to tell her the truth as politely as I could. – But it made no difference. She became even more infatuated; in the end I was always very polite to her except when she got up to her tricks and then I was rude – but she then took me by the hand and said:
dear Mozart; don’t be so cross – no matter what you say, I really do like you
. – Throughout the whole town people are saying
that we’re getting married and they’re only surprised that I can choose someone with a face like that. She told me that whenever people said anything like that to her, she always laughed at it; but I know from a certain person that she confirmed that it was true, adding that we’d then travel together. – That infuriated me. – So the other day I told her what I thought of her and that she shouldn’t abuse my kindness. – I’m no longer seeing her every day, but only every other day, and shall gradually stop seeing her altogether. She’s nothing but an infatuated fool; – before she got to know me, she heard me in the theatre and said: He’s coming to see me tomorrow and I’ll play him his variations in the same style. – For that very reason I didn’t go as it was a conceited thing to say and also because it was a lie. I’d never said a word about calling on her the next day. – Adieu for now, there’s no paper left. The first act of the opera is finished. I kiss your hands 1000 times and embrace my dear sister with all my heart. I am ever your ob. son

W. A. Mozart

At the end of August, Mozart took lodgings on the third floor of Innere Stadt 1175 (now 17), not far from the Webers.

Mon très cher Père
,

I’m sorry you’ve had to pay more postage on my recent letters! – But I’d nothing important to tell you – and I thought you’d like to have some idea of my opera. – The opera started with a monologue and so I asked Herr Stephanie to turn it into a little arietta
¹
and, instead of having the two of them chatter away together after Osmin’s
little song
²
to turn it into a duet.
³
– As we’ve written the part of Osmin for Herr Fischer, who certainly has an outstanding bass voice – in spite of this the archbishop told me that he sings too low for a bass, so I assured him that next time he’d sing higher – we must take advantage of him, especially because he has the whole of the local audience on his side. – But in the original libretto this Osmin has only this one little song to sing and nothing else, except for the trio and finale.
⁴
And so he’s now got an aria in the first act and will have another one in the 2nd.
⁵
– I’ve told Herr Stephanie exactly what I want for this aria; – the bulk of the music was already written before Stephanie knew a word of it. – You have only the beginning and the end, which is bound to be highly effective – Osmin’s rage is made to seem funny by the Turkish music that I’ve used here. – In developing the aria, I’ve allowed his beautiful low notes to gleam – in spite of our Salzburg Midas.
⁶
– ‘
Drum beym Barte des Propheten
’
⁷
etc. is still at the same speed, but with quick notes – and as his rage continues to grow, just when you think the aria is over, the allegro assai – in a completely different metre and different key – is bound to be tremendously effective; just as a person in such a violent rage oversteps all the bounds of order and moderation and overshoots the mark, completely forgetting himself, so the music must forget itself – but because the passions, whether violent or not, must never be expressed to the point of causing disgust, and because music, even in the most terrible situation, must never offend the ear but must give pleasure and, hence, always remain music, I’ve not chosen a key foreign to F – the key of the aria – but one related to it, not, however, the one closest to it, D minor, but the more remote A minor. – Now for Belmonte’s aria in A major, ‘
O wie ängstlich, o wie feurig
’,
⁸
do you
know how it’s expressed? – Even his beating, loving heart is indicated – by the 2 violins in octaves. – This is the favourite aria of all who’ve heard it – and of me too. – It’s written entirely to suit Adamberger’s voice. You see the trembling – vacillation – you see his breast begin to swell – which I’ve expressed with a crescendo – you hear the whispering and sighing – which is expressed by the first violins with mutes and a flute playing in unison with them.