There is another "hickl-hackl" with the Sinfonie Concertante. I believe there is something behind, for I have my enemies here, as where have I not had them? It is a good sign, however. I was obliged to write the symphony in great haste, worked hard at it, and thoroughly satisfied the four performers. Le Gros had it four days for copying, and I always found it lying in the same place. At last, the day but one before the concert, I did not find it; searched about among the music, and found it hidden away. I could do nothing but ask Le Gros, "A propos, have you given the Sinfonie Concertante to be copied?" "No, I forgot it." Of course I could not order him to have it copied and played, so said nothing. The day it should have been performed I went to the concert; Ramm and Punto came up to me in a rage, and asked why my sinfonie concertante was not played. "I do not know; this is the first I have heard of it." Ramm was furious, and abused Le Gros in French, saying that it was unhandsome of him, &c. What annoyed me most in the whole affair was Le Gros not telling me a word about it, as if I was to know nothing of it. If he had only made an apology, that the time was too short, or anything; but no, not a word.[ 4 ] I think Cambini, an Italian PARIS, 1778. composer here, is at the bottom of it, for I was the innocent cause of his being extinguished on his first introduction to Le Gros. He has written some pretty quartets, one of which I had heard at Mannheim; I praised it to him, and played the beginning; Ritter, Ramm, and Punto were there, and they left me no peace, insisting that I should go on, and make up myself what I could not remember. So I did it, and Cambini was quite beside himself, and could not refrain from saying, "Questa è una gran testa!" But it must have been sorely against the grain with him.
The father was of the same opinion, and warned Wolfgang that Cambini would not be the only one who would seek to injure him; but he must not allow himself to be disconcerted (April 29, 1778). Wolfgang expressed himself with considerable dissatisfaction:—
If this were a place where the people had ears to hear, and a heart to feel, and just a little understanding and taste for music, I would laugh from my heart at all these things; but, as far as music is concerned, I am among a set of dolts and blockheads. How can it be otherwise? They are just the same in all their transactions, love-affairs, and passions. There is no place in the world like Paris. You must not think that I exaggerate in speaking so of the music here. Ask whom you will (only not a native Frenchman), and they will tell you the same. Well, I am here, and must make the best of it, for your sake. I shall thank the Almighty if I come out of it with unvitiated taste. I pray to God daily to give me grace to stand firm, and do honour to myself and the German nation, and that He will grant me success, so that I may make plenty of money, help you out of all your present troubles, and that we may meet once more, and all live happily together again.
Through the good offices of Grimm, Mozart was recommended to the Duc de Guines, who had been recalled from his post as Ambassador in London after his notorious lawsuit with secretary Tort[ 5 ] in 1776, and stood high in favour with the Queen.[ 6 ] L. Mozart wrote (March 28, 1778):[ 7 ]—
My dear Son,—I beg that you will do your best to gain the friendship of the Duc de Guines, and to keep well with him; I have frequently read in the papers of his high place in the royal favour; the Queen being now enceinte, there are sure to be grand festivities when the child is born; you may get something to do, and make your fortune; for in these cases everything depends upon the pleasure of the Queen. CONCERTO IN C MAJOR. The Duke was amusing and fond of music;[ 8 ] as Mozart himself says, he played the flute inimitably, and his daughter the harp magnificently.[ 9 ] He gave Mozart a commission to compose a concerto for flute and harp. These were exactly the two instruments which Mozart could not endure.[ 10 ] But this did not prevent his accomplishing his task to the perfect satisfaction of the Duke. The concerto (299 K.) is in C major, with accompaniments for a small orchestra, and consists of the usual three movements. In conformity with the nature of the instruments the character of the concerto is cheerful and graceful, and it is excellent of its kind. Each movement is well and compactly formed, and has an abundance of rich melody, enhanced in effect by the harmonic treatment, the varied character of the accompaniment, and the alternation of the solo instruments. The thematic treatment is only lightly sketched in so as to keep the interest alive; but in the middle movement of the first part the harmonic arrangement betrays a master-hand; at its close a fresh melody is introduced, as was then the rule, in order to excite the attention anew. Especially graceful and tender is the Andantino, accompanied only by a quartet. The solo instruments are brilliant without being particularly difficult; the orchestra is discreetly made use of to support the delicate solo instruments without interfering with their effect; but the easy setting ä jour is elaborated in detail with great skill and decision, both as regards the sound effects and the passages and turns of the accompaniment.
Besides this, Mozart gave the Duke's daughter two hours' lessons in composition daily, for which generous payment might be expected. He describes the lessons minutely (May 14, 1778):—
She has talent and even genius, but especially has she a marvellous memory: she knows two hundred pieces, and can play them all by heart.
"Once when we were talking of instruments, Mozart said that he detested the harp and the flute."
She is, however, very doubtful whether she has any talent for composition, particularly as regards ideas and imagination; but her father—who, between ourselves, is a little infatuated about her—says she has plenty of ideas, but is over-modest, and has too little confidence in herself. Well, we shall see. If she does not get any ideas or imagination (at present she has absolutely none) it is all in vain, for, God knows, I cannot give them to her. Her father has no intention of making her into a great composer. "I do not wish her," says he, "to write operas, concertos, songs, or symphonies, but only grand sonatas for her instrument and mine." To-day I gave her her fourth lesson, and, as far as regards the rules of composition and exercises, I am fairly satisfied. She has supplied a very good bass to the first minuet which I set her. She is beginning now to write in three parts. She does it, but she gets ennuyée. I cannot help it, for I cannot possibly take her farther. Even if she had genius it would be too soon, and unhappily she has none—everything must be done artificially. She has no ideas, and so nothing comes of it. I have tried her in every sort of way. Among other things, it came into my head to write down a very simple minuet, and to try if she could write a variation on it. No; it was in vain. "Well," I thought, "she does not know how to begin;" so I began to vary the first bar, and told her to go on with it, and keep the same idea; and at last she managed it. When that was done, I told her to begin something herself, only the first part of a melody. She reflected for a quarter of an hour, but nothing came of it. Then I wrote the first four bars of a minuet, and said, "See what a donkey I am; I have begun a minuet, and cannot even finish the first part. Be so kind as to do it for me." She thought it was impossible. At last, after much trouble, something came to light; and I was very glad of it. Then I made her complete the minuet—only the first part, of course. I have given her nothing to do at home but to alter my four bars, and make something out of them—to invent a new beginning, even if the harmony is the same, so long as the melody is altered. I shall see to-morrow what she has made of it.