[Copy in the Mozarteum, Salzburg]
[WORMS, 31 January
I778]
Oh, mother mine!
Butter is fine.
Praise and thanks be to Him,
We're alive and full of vim.
Through the world we dash,
Though we're rather short of cash.
But we don't find this provoking
And none of us are choking.
Besides, to people I'm tied
Who carry their muck inside
And let it out, if they are able,
Both before and after table.
At night of farts there is no lack,
Which are let off, forsooth, with a powerful crack.
The king of farts came yesterday
Whose farts smelt sweeter than the may.
His voice, however, was no treat
And he himself was in a heat.
Well, now we've been over a week away
And we've been shitting every day.
Wendling, no doubt, is in a rage
That I haven't composed a single page;
But when I cross the Rhine once more,
I'll surely dash home through the door
And, lest he call me mean and petty,
I'll finish off his four quartetti.'
The concerto for Paris I'Il keep,'tis more fitting.
I'll scribble it there some day when I'm shitting.
Indeed I swear 'twould be far better fun
With the Webers around the world to run
Than to go with those bores, you know whom I mean,
When I think of their faces, I get the spleen.
But I suppose it must be and off we shall toddle,
Though Weber's arse I prefer to Ramm's noddle.
A slice of Weber's arse is a thing
I'd rather have than Monsieur Wendling.
With our shitting God we cannot hurt
And least of all if we bite the dirt.
We are honest birds, all of a feather,
We have summa summarum eight eyes together,
Not counting those on which we sit.
But now I really must rest a bit
From rhyming. Yet this I must add,
That on Monday I'Il have the honour, egad,
To embrace you and kiss yours hands so fair.
But first in my pants I'll shit, I swear.
Worms, January I778th, Anno 31
Your faithful child,
With distemper wild.
TRAZOM
[Autograph in the Stefan Zweig Collection, British Library, London]
The autograph of this letter, a facsimile of which was published for private circulation by Herbert Reichner, Vienna, 1931, shows a tremendous flourish round the first letter of 'Allerliebstes Bâsle Hâsle'.
[MANNHEIM, 5 November I777 ]
DEAREST COZ FUZZ!
I have received reprieved your dear letter, telling selling me that my uncle carbuncle, my aunt can't and you too are very well hell. Thank God, we too are in excellent health wealth. Today the letter setter from my Papa Ha! Ha! dropped safely into my claws paws. I hope that you too have got shot the note dote which I wrote to you from Mannheim. If so, so much the better, better the much so.......
You write further, you pour out, disclose, divulge, notify, declare, signify, inform, acquaint me with the fact, make it quite clear, request, demand, desire, wish, would like, order me to send lend you my portrait. Eh bien, I shall certainly despatch scratch it to you. Oui, par ma foi. I shit on your nose and it will run down your chin. A propos. Have you got that Spuni Cuni business! Do tell me! Do you still love me ? I am sure you do ! If so, so much the better, better the much so!
Well, so it is in this world, I'm told. One has the purse and another has the gold. Whom do you hold with! Surely with me--I am certain you do. But now things are more difficult. A propos. Would you not like to go and see Herr Goldschmidt again soon! ... But, you ask, what for! What for!--Why, nothing at all--beyond asking about that Spuni Cuni business. Well, well; that's all right. Long live all those who ... how does it go on! Well, I wish you good night, but first shit into your bed and mace it burst. Sleep soundly, my love, into your mouth your arse you'll shove. Now I'm off to fool about and then I'11 sleep a bit, no doubt. Tomorrow we'll talk sensibly for a bit vomit. I tell a things of lot to have you, you imagine can't simply how have I much say to; but hear all tomorrow it will you. Meanwhile, good-bye. Oh, my arse is burning like fire! What on earth does it mean!--Perhaps some muck wants to come out ? Why yes, muck, I know, see and smell you... and... what is that ? -- Is it possible... Ye gods !--can I believe those ears of mine? Yes indeed, it is so--what a long melancholy note! Today letter the writing am 5th this I. Yesterday I had to talk with the formidable Electress and tomorrow, the 6th, I am playing at the great gala concert; and afterwards I am to play again to her in private, as she herself told me. Now for some real sense.
No. 1. A letter or letters addressed to me will reach you, which I must ask you to--to what ? Why, a fox is no hare, well ...
I shall let you know where I go on to from Mannheim.
Now for No. 2. I must ask you, why not ?--I must ask you, dearest dunce, why not ?-if you happen to be writing to Madame Tavernier at Munich, to send my regards to the two Misses Freysinger, Why not ?-- Strange!-Why not ? And say that I beg the youngest one, Fraulein Josepha, to forgive me, why not ?-- Why should I not beg her to forgive me! Strange! Why should I not? Say that she must forgive me for not having yet sent her the sonata I promised her and that I shall send it as soon as possible. Why not ?...
Do not forget also to send my compliments to the Papa and Mamma of the two young ladies, for it is a gross fault to forget must shall will have one's duty to father and mother. When the sonata is finished, I shall send it to you and the letter as well; and you will be good enough to send it on to Munich. Now I must close, though it makes me morose. Dear Uncle, let us go at once to the Holy Cross Monastery and see if anyone is still up ? We shall not stay long, we shall just ring the bell, that is all. Now I must tell you of a sad thing which has happened just this very moment. As I was doing my best to write this letter, I heard something on the street. I stopped writing--I got up--went to the window ... and ... the sound ceased, I sat down again, started off again to write--but I had hardly written ten words when again I heard something. I got up again-- As I did, I again heard a sound, this time quite faint--but I seemed to smell something slightly burnt--and wherever I went, it smelt. When I looked out of the window, the smell disappeared. When I looked back into the room, I again noticed it. In the end Mamma said to me: 'I bet you have let off one' . 'I don't think so, Mamma', I replied.'Well, I am certain that you have', she insisted. Well, I thought 'Let's see', put my finger to my arse and then to my nose and -- Ecce, provatum est. Mamma was right after all. Well, farewell. I kiss you 1000 times and remain, as always, your little old piggy wiggy
WOLFGANG AMAD÷ ROSY POSY
A thousand compliments from us two travellers to my aunt and uncle. My greetings bleatings to all my good friends sends. Addio, booby looby.
333 to the grave, if my life I
save.
Miehnnam, Rebotco eht ht5, 7771.
[Autograph in the Stefan Zweig Collection, British Library, London]
[KAYSERSHEIM, 23 December, 1778]
MA TRÉS CHERE COUSINE!
In the greatest haste and with the most profound regret and sorrow and in fixed determination I now write to inform you that tomorrow I am leaving for Munich. Dearest Coz, don't be a fuz. I would gladly have gone to Augsburg, I assure you, but the Imperial Abbot wouldn't let me go, and I can't blame him, you know, for that would be contrary to God's and Nature's law, and whoever doubts this is a whore. Well that's how things are at the moment. Perhaps I shall take a trip from Munich to Augsburg. But I am not sure about this. So if it gives you pleasure to see me, come to Munich, that fine town. Make a point of being there before the New Year mind, and I shall take a good look at you in front and behind; I shall take you round the town, and if necessary, wash you down. The only thing I regret is that I can't give you a shake-down, because I shall not be staying at an inn, but shall be living -- where do you think? I should love to know where. Well, jo-o-o-o-oking apart! That is just the reason why it is very necessary that you should come and stay, perhaps you will have a great part to play. So come for a bit, or else I'll shit. If you do, this high and mighty person will think you very kind, will give you a smack behind, will kiss your hands, my dear, shoot off a gun in the rear, embrace you warmly, mind, and wash your front and your behind, pay you all his debts to the uttermost groat, and shoot off one with a rousing note, perhaps even let something drop from his boat.
Adieu my angel, my sweetheart.
I am aching to see you.
Do send me a nice little letter of 24 pages to Munich, Poste Restante; but do not say where you will be staying, so that I may not find you, nor you me.
Votre sincËre co
W:A (corner torn off letter)
PS. Shit-Dibitari the parson at Rodampl, licked his cook's arse, to others as an example.
vivat vivat
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Page compiled by Coprologist, 22 July, 1997, updated 18 February, 2000, by adding another letter.