piątek, 11 lutego 2011

1779 Mozart in Munich and Salzburg


Munich, Jan. 8, 1779.

[Footnote: The second grand aria that Mozart wrote for Aloysia,
bears the same date.]

I HOPE you received my last letter, which I meant to have given
to the vetturino, but having missed him I sent it by post. I
have, in the mean time, got all your letters safely through Herr
Becke. I gave him my letter to read, and he also showed me his. I
assure you, my very dear father, that I am now full of joy at
returning to you, (but not to Salzburg,) as your last letter
shows that you know me better than formerly. There never was any
other cause for my long delay in going home but this doubt, which
gave rise to a feeling of sadness that I could no longer conceal;
so I at last opened my heart to my friend Becke. What other cause
could I possibly have? I have done nothing to cause me to dread
reproach from you; I am guilty of no fault; (by a fault I mean
that which does not become a Christian, and a man of honor;) in
short, I now rejoice, and already look forward to the most
agreeable and happy days, but only in the society of yourself and
my dear sister. I give you my solemn word of honor that I cannot
endure Salzburg or its inhabitants, (I speak of the natives of
Salzburg.) Their language, their manners, are to me quite
intolerable. You cannot think what I suffered during Madame
Robinig's visit here, for it is long indeed since I met with such
a fool; and, for my still further annoyance, that silly, deadly
dull Mosmayer was also there.

But to proceed. I went yesterday, with my dear friend Cannabich,
to the Electress to present my sonatas. Her apartments are
exactly what I should like mine one day to be, very pretty and
neat, just like those of a private individual, all except the
view, which is miserable. We were there fully an hour and a half,
and she was very gracious. I have managed to let her know that I
must leave this in a few days, which will, I hope, expedite
matters. You have no cause to be uneasy about Count Seeau; I
don't believe the thing will come through his hands, and even if
it does, he will not venture to say a word. Now, once for all,
believe that I have the most eager longing to embrace you and my
beloved sister. If it were only not in Salzburg! But as I have
not hitherto been able to see you without going to Salzburg, I do
so gladly. I must make haste, for the post is just going.

My cousin is here. Why? To please me, her cousin; this is,
indeed, the ostensible cause. But--we can talk about it in
Salzburg; and, on this account, I wished very much that she would
come with me there. You will find a few lines, written by her own
hand, attached to the fourth page of this letter. She is quite
willing to go; so if it would really give you pleasure to see
her, be so kind as to write immediately to her brother, that the
thing may be arranged. When you see her and know her, she is
certain to please you, for she is a favorite with every one.

Wolfgang's pleasantries, in the following; letter to his cousin,
show that his good humor was fully restored. He was received at
home with very great rejoicings, and his cousin soon followed


Salzburg, May 10, 1779.

DEAREST, sweetest, most beauteous, fascinating, and charming of
all cousins, most basely maltreated by an unworthy kinsman! Allow
me to strive to soften and appease your just wrath, which only
heightens your charms and winning beauty, as high as the heel of
your slipper! I hope to soften you, Nature having bestowed on me
a large amount of softness, and to appease you, being fond of
sweet pease. As to the Leipzig affair, I can't tell whether it
may be worth stooping to pick up; were it a bag of ringing coin,
it would be a very different thing, and nothing less do I mean to
accept, so there is an end of it.

Sweetest cousin, such is life! One man has got a purse, but
another has got the money, and he who has neither has nothing;
and nothing is even less than little; while, on the other hand,
much is a great deal more than nothing, and nothing can come of
nothing. Thus has it been from the beginning, is now, and ever
shall be; and as I can make it neither worse nor better, I may as
well conclude my letter. The gods know I am sincere. How does
Probst get on with his wife? and do they live in bliss or in
strife? most silly questions, upon my life! Adieu, angel! My
father sends you his uncle's blessing, and a thousand cousinly
kisses from my sister. Angel, adieu!

A TENDER ODE. [Footnote: A parody of Klopstock's "Dein susses
Bild, Edone"]


THY sweet image, cousin mine,
Hovers aye before me; Would the form indeed were thine!
How I would adore thee! I see it at the day's decline; I see it
through the pale moonshine, And linger o'er that form divine

By all the flowers of sweet perfume
I'll gather for my cousin,--By all the wreaths of myrtle-bloom
I'll wreathe her by the dozen,--I call upon that image there To
pity my immense despair, And be indeed my cousin fair

[Footnote: These words are written round the slightly sketched
caricature of a face.]

Brak komentarzy:

Publikowanie komentarza