THE summons to Vienna appeared like the fulfilment of Mozart's ardent and long-deferred wish; but his relation to the Archbishop, among whose followers he was obliged to consider himself, was only too well calculated to turn his delight into disappointment. He had apparently the best opportunity of gaining admission to the most distinguished society, and of earning fame and money in a city where music was the prevailing means of entertainment. But the Archbishop, desirous as he was to shine by virtue of the extraordinary performers and composers who were in his service, found equal satisfaction in keeping them constantly in mind that they were in his service. It was the custom for princes when they were invited out to be attended by the members of their suite; 1 and the musicians were summoned also to provide music in strange houses. The Archbishop did not hesitate to show off Mozart, as well as Ceccarelli and Brunetti, in this way, as his own private performers; but as often as Mozart found an advantageous opportunity for being heard independently, he refused him permission and treated him in all respects like a servant in his house. It can be imagined how Mozart felt himself aggrieved by such undignified treatment, after the full freedom and recognition of his talents which he had enjoyed in Munich, and within reach of such brilliant successes as he might have had in Vienna. His letters to his father show how he must have longed to throw off his galling chains, and give us a lively picture of his position and feelings:—

Yesterday, March 16 (1781), I arrived, God be praised, quite alone, in a post-chaise, at nine o'clock in the morning.... Now about the Archbishop. I have a charming room in the same house as the Archbishop. Brunetti and Ceccarelli are lodged in another house. Che THE ARCHBISHOP IN VIENNA, 1781 distinzione! My neighbour, Herr von Kleinmayern (Director of the Council), overwhelmed me with civilities on my arrival. He is really a very pleasant fellow. We dine at twelve midday, a little too early for me, unfortunately. The two valets in attendance, the controller (E. M. KÖlnberger), Herr Zezi (the court quartermaster), the confectioner, two cooks, Ceccarelli, Brunetti, and my littleness all dine together. The two valets sit at the head of the table, and I have the honour to be placed above the cooks. I can imagine myself in Salzburg. During dinner there is a good deal of coarse silly joking, but not with me, for I do not speak a word but what I am obliged, and that with the greatest circumspection. When I have had my dinner I go my way. There is no evening meal provided, but we each receive three ducats, and that you know goes a long way! The Archbishop is glad enough to glorify himself with his people—takes their services and gives them nothing in return. Yesterday we had music at four o'clock, when at least twenty persons of the high nobility were present. Ceccarelli has already sung at Palfy's (the Archbishop's brother-in-law). To-day we are to go to Prince Gallitzin (the Russian ambassador), who was present yesterday. I shall wait to see if I am paid anything; if not I shall go to the Archbishop and tell him straight out that if he will not allow me to earn anything for myself he must pay me, for that I cannot live on my own money.

L. Mozart, who saw the storm coming, sought to pacify his son by telling him that as the Archbishop had summoned him to Vienna in order to glorify himself by his performances, he would certainly take care to give him opportunities for display; but Wolfgang answers (March 24, 1781):—

You say that the Archbishop's vanity is tickled by having me in his possession; this may be true, but of what use is it to me? It is not a thing to live by. And believe me that he only stands in the way of my preferment. How does he treat me? Herr von Kleinmayern and Boenike (secretary and councillor) have a special table with the illustrious Count Arco; it would be a distinction to sit at this table, instead of being with the valets—who, when they are not taking the first places at table, light the candles, shut the doors, and remain in the antechambers—and with the cooks! And when we go to a concert anywhere, the valet waits outside until the Salzburgers arrive, and then lets them know by a footman that they have permission to enter. Brunetti told me all this, and I thought as I listened, "Only wait till I come!"

The other day when we went to Prince Gallitzin, Brunetti said to me in his nice way, "Mind you are here at six o'clock this evening, and we will go together to Prince Gallitzin's: Angelbauer will conduct you. I replied, "Very well; but if I am not here at six punctually, do not wait for me; we shall be sure to meet there. So I purposely went RELEASE. alone, and when I arrived, there stood Monsieur Angelbauer ready to inform Monsieur the footman that he might show me in. But I took not the least notice either of the valet or the footman, but went straight through into the music-room, all the doors being open, and up to the Prince, to whom, after paying my respects, I stood talking for some time. I had quite forgotten Brunetti and Ceccarelli, for they kept out of sight behind the orchestra, and stood leaning against the wall, without venturing a step forward.

The Archbishop also made his musicians play for old Prince Rudolf Colloredo, his father, for which they received five ducats, and the demands he made on Mozart for his own concerts are shown by a letter to the father (April 8, 1781):—

To-day we had a concert (for I am writing at eleven o'clock at night) at which three pieces by me were performed (new ones, of course)—a rondo to a concerto for Brunetti, 2 a sonata with violin accompaniment for myself, which I composed last night between eleven and twelve o'clock; but I had only time to write the accompaniment part for Brunetti, and I played my own part out of my head; 3 and then a rondo for Ceccarelli, which was encored. 4

For all this he received from the Archbishop, who had at least paid him four ducats for the first concert, nothing at all. This might pass, but shortly afterwards he writes (April 11, 1781): "What makes me half desperate is that the same evening that we had that confounded concert the Countess Thun invited me. Of course I could not go, and who do you think was there? The Emperor! Adamberger VIENNA, 1781. and Madame Weigl 5 were there, and each had fifty ducats—and what an opportunity!"

He was right, certainly, in saying that the Archbishop stood in the way of his preferment, for he had very few opportunities for winning fame or success. He renewed his old acquaintance with the Messmer family (pp. 86, 145), with Herr von Auerhammer and his fat daughter, and with the old kapellmeister, Bono. Bono allowed a symphony by Mozart to be rehearsed in his house, which, as he reports (April 11, 1781), went splendidly and was a great success.

"Forty violins played; the wind instruments were all doubled."

He had no difficulty, either, in gaining admission to the most distinguished musical circles:—

I go this evening (March 24) with Herr von Kleinmayem to one of his friends—the Councillor Braun—who, every one tells me, is a great amateur of the clavier. 6 I have already dined twice with the Countess Thun, and go there almost every day. She is the most charming and amiable woman that I have ever seen, and she thinks a great deal of me. I have also dined with Count Cobenzl (court and state vice-chancellor). My principal object now is to make myself favourably known to the Emperor, for I am determined that he shall know me.

I should like to play through my opera to him, and then some good fugues—that is what he has most taste for. Oh! if I had only known that I was to be in Vienna during Lent, I would have written a little oratorio, and performed it for my own benefit, as is the custom here.

I could easily have written it beforehand, for I know all the voices here. How I should like to give a public concert! but it would not be allowed,

I know for certain; for, just imagine! you know that there is a Society here which gives concerts for the benefit of the widows of musicians, and every one at all connected with music plays there gratis. The orchestra is 180 strong. 7 No one who pretends to any philanthropy refuses to play when the Society calls upon him to do so; it is a sure way also to the favour of the Emperor and of the public. Starzer was RELEASE. commissioned to request me to play, and I willingly agreed, subject to the consent of my Prince, of which I had little doubt, seeing that it was a religious kind of performance, and gratuitous. He refused his permission, however, and all the nobility have taken it ill of him. I am only sorry on this account: the Emperor is to be in the proscenium box, and I should have preluded quite alone, and then played a fugue and the variations, "Je suis Lindor." The Countess Thun would have lent me her beautiful pianoforte by Stein for the purpose. Whenever I have played the variations in public they have been greatly applauded. They are easily understood, and every one finds something to his taste.

In this instance, however, the Archbishop was obliged to give way. The institution for the widows and orphans of Vienna musicians, founded by the kapellmeister Florian Gassmann, in 1771, enjoyed the highest patronage; and the four concerts given annually for its benefit—two during Advent, and two in Passion week—were as well supported by celebrated composers and performers as by the public. Starzer went to the concert at Prince Gallitzin's, and he and all the nobility teased the Archbishop so long for his consent that he could not withhold it. "I am so glad!" exclaims Mozart, when he informs his father of this. 8 The programme of the thirty-fourth concert for the benefit of the Society of Musicians at Vienna, on April 3, 1781, contained the following: 9 —

The Herr Ritter W. A. Mozart will then perform alone on the pianoforte. He visited Vienna as a child of seven years old, and then excited the universal admiration of the public by his compositions, his insight into the art of music, and his extraordinary facility of touch and execution.

His success was all that could be desired. "After yesterday," he writes (April 4), "I may well say that I am satisfied with the Vienna public. I played at the concert for the widows' institution, and was obliged to begin twice over, because there was no end to the applause." He refers to it again in his next letter (April 8): "That which most pleased and surprised me was the total silence, and then in ORDER TO RETURN TO SALZBURG. the middle of my playing bursts of applause and bravos. For Vienna, where there are so many and such good clavier-players; it has been really a wonderful success."

After this, his prospects, if he could succeed in giving a concert on his own account, were sufficiently brilliant; and ladies of rank offered themselves to dispose of the tickets for him. "What should I not make if I were to give a concert for myself, now that the Vienna public knows me! But the Archbishop will not allow it; he wishes his people to have loss rather than profit in his service." He contemplated shortly sending his musicians back to Salzburg; if Mozart were to be obliged to leave Vienna before he had established himself in the favour of the public, and to find himself in Salzburg again, with no hope of any further leave of absence, there would be an end to all his future prospects. Brunetti had told him that Count Arco had communicated to him the Archbishop's directions that they were to receive their travelling money, and to set out on the following Sunday; if any wished to remain longer he might do so, but he must live on his own means. Mozart declared that until Count Arco himself told him that he was to go he would entirely ignore it, and then he would tell him his mind on the subject. He would certainly remain in Vienna; he thought that if he could find only two pupils (he had one already in the Countess Rumbeck), he should be better off than in Salzburg; with a successful concert, and some profitable invitations into society, it could not be but that he should send money home, while his father would be drawing pay for them both, and would be relieved from his support. "Oh! I will turn the tables on the Archbishop in the most delightful manner, and as politely as possible, for he cannot do me any harm."

The father was horrified at this news. He had a well-founded distrust of Wolfgang's financial plans, which were always built upon an uncertain future, and he feared that a complete rupture with the Archbishop would be the consequence of such a step, that he would lose his situation and be liable for the expenses of the journey to the capital; he earnestly begged his son to reflect well on the feasibility RELEASE. of his project. "Dear father," runs the answer, "I love you very dearly, as you may see from my renouncing for your sake my dearest wishes and desires; for if it were not for you, I declare on my honour I would not delay an instant, but would quit my service, give a grand concert, set to work with pupils, and in a year I should be succeeding so well in Vienna that I should be earning at least a thousand dollars per annum. I assure you it is very hard for me so to set aside my hopes of fortune. I am young, as you say—true, but to dawdle away one's youth in such a miserable hole is sad enough, and hurtful besides."

The threatened departure was postponed for a time, for the Archbishop required his performers in Vienna; then it was said that they were to return home on April 22. "When I think," wrote Wolfgang (April 11, 1781) "of leaving Vienna without at least a thousand florins in my pocket, my heart sinks within me. Am I to throw away a thousand gulden because of a malicious prince who does what he likes with me for a miserable four hundred florins? I should make quite that by a concert." And now he was to come to the knowledge that not only had he laboured in vain for the Archbishop, but that he had thereby lost the opportunity of introducing himself to the notice of the Emperor. "I cannot quite say to the Emperor that if he wants to hear me he must make haste about it, for that I am going away on such a day—one has to wait for these things. And here I cannot and must not stay, unless I give a concert, for although I should be better off here than at home, if I had only two pupils, it helps one along to have a thousand or twelve hundred florins in one's purse. And he will not allow it, the misanthrope—I must call him so, for so he is, as the whole of the nobility say." There were favourable prospects, too, of a permanent settlement in Vienna at no very distant date. The kapellmeister, Bono, was very old; after his death Salieri would succeed him, and Starzer would take Salieri's place—for Starzer there was as yet no successor—could a better be found than Mozart?

Again his father warned him not to make uncertain plans, but to hold fast to what was secure, and to bear what was PROSPECTS IN VIENNA, 1781. unavoidable; he warned him also against incautious expressions "which could only do harm." Wolfgang could only answer that his father was partly right and partly wrong; "but that in which you are right far outweighs that in which you are wrong, therefore I will certainly come, and with the greatest pleasure, since I am fully convinced that you would never come in the way of my advancement" (April 18, 1781). But it was hard to submit to the will of his father, and the Archbishop's continual insults did not make it any easier. He writes (April 28, 1781):—

You are expecting me with pleasure, my dearest father! That is in fact the one consideration which has brought me to the point of leaving Vienna, for the whole world may know that the Archbishop of Salzburg has only to thank you, my best of fathers, that he did not lose me yesterday for ever (I mean, of course, from his suite). Yesterday we had a concert, probably the last. The concert went very well, and, in spite of all the hindrances put in my way by his archiepiscopal grace, I had a better orchestra than Brunetti, as Ceccarelli can tell you; but the worry and trouble I had to arrange it all can be told better than written. But if, as I hope will not be the case, the same thing should happen again, I should certainly lose patience, and you would as certainly forgive me. And I must beg for your permission, my dear father, to return to Vienna next Lent. It depends upon you, not on the Archbishop; for even if he refuses permission I shall go: it will do me no harm, not a bit! Oh, if he could read this, how glad I should be! But you must give your consent in your next letter, for it is only on this condition that I return to Salzburg—and I must keep my word to the ladies here. Stephanie will give me a German opera to write. I shall expect your answer to this. When and how I shall set out I cannot tell you at present. It is lamentable that we are so kept in the dark by our lord and master. All at once it will be, "Allons! weg!" First we are told that a carriage is being made in which the controller Ceccarelli and I are to travel; then that we are to go by the diligence; then that we are to have the money for the diligence, and travel as we choose (which, indeed, I should like best of all); first we are to go in a week, then in a fortnight; then in three weeks, then again sooner. Good heavens! one does not know where one is with it all, and there is no help for it. Yesterday the ladies kept me quite an hour at the clavier, after the concert; I believe I should be sitting there still if I had not managed to steal away.

Again he writes later (June 13, 1781):—

At the last concert, when it was all over, I played variations for a whole hour (the Archbishop gave me the subject), and the applause was RELEASE. so great that, if the Archbishop has ever so little of a human heart, he must have been pleased; and instead of showing me approbation and content—or at least taking no notice of me—he treats me like a beggar, and tells me to my face that I must take more pains, that he could get a hundred who would serve him better than I do.

Mozart's passionate excitement had risen to such a pitch that a drop was sufficient to overflow the cup of his wrath; the Archbishop paid no heed, and affairs came to an inevitable crisis. The following letter (May 9, 1781) shows how far Hieronymus thought he might go with his dependents:—

I am still overflowing with gall, and you, my best and very dear father, will certainly sympathise with me. My patience has been tried for a long time; at last it has given way. I have no longer the misfortune to be in the Salzburg service. To-day was the happy one of my release. Now listen. Twice already the ———— I do not know what to call him—has used the most impertinent and coarsest language to my face, which I refrained from writing to you that I might not distress you, and which nothing but my love and duty to you prevented me from chastising on the spot. He called me a scoundrel—a miserable fellow—told me he would send me packing—and I bore it all; allowed not my own honour alone, but yours, to be so affronted because you wished it.

So I was silent. Well, listen. A week ago the courier came up on a sudden and told me I was to leave immediately. The others all had the day fixed, but I had not. So I packed up my things as quickly as I could, and old Madame Weber was so kind as to offer me her house. There I have a pretty room, and I am with obliging people who are ready to provide me with everything that I require, but could not get if I were living alone. I appointed my journey for Wednesday (that is to-day, the 9th), by stage-coach, but I could not collect the money owing to me in time, so I postponed my journey until Saturday. Being seen about to-day one of the valets told me that the Archbishop had a parcel to give me. I asked if there was any hurry, and he replied that it was of the greatest importance. "Then I am sorry not to be able to oblige his grace, for (owing to the above reasons) I cannot set out before Saturday. I am out of the house, living on my own means, and it is therefore quite evident that I cannot go until I am ready, for no one will care to collect my debts for me." Kleinmayern, Moll, Boeneke, and the two valets thought I was right. When I went in to him (I must tell you that Schlaucka had advised me to excuse myself by saying I had already taken my seat in the coach—that would have most weight with him)—when I went into him, then, he began at once:—Archbishop: "Well, when are you going, fellow?" Mozart: "I wished to go to-night, but I could not secure a seat." Then out it came, all in a breath—that I was the most miserable fellow he knew—no one served him so badly as MOZART RESIGNS HIS POST. I did. He advised me to be off to-day, or he would write home to stop my pay. There was no getting in a word, it went on like a flood. I listened to it all calmly. He lied to my face by saying that I had five hundred florins salary 10 —called me the most opprobrious names—oh, I really cannot bring myself to write you all! At last, when my blood was boiling, I could hold out no longer, and said: "Then your Serene Highness is not satisfied with me?" "What! do you mean to threaten me, you rascal, you villain? There is the door; I will have nothing more to do with such a wretched fellow!" At last I said, "Neither will I with you." "Then be off!" As I went I said, "Let it be so then; to-morrow you shall hear from me by letter." Tell me now, dear father, should I not have had to say this sooner or later? Now listen. My honour comes before everything to me, and I know that it is so with you also. Have no care for me. I am so certain of success here that I might have resigned even without a cause. As I have had very good cause, and that three times, it is no fault of mine; au contraire, I was a cowardly rascal twice, and the third time I could not be so again. As long as the Archbishop is here I will give no concert. Your idea that I shall lower myself in the opinion of the Emperor or of the nobility is entirely mistaken. The Archbishop is hated here, and most of all by the Emperor. That is his real grievance, that the Emperor has not invited him to Laxenburg. I will send you some calculations as to money by the next post to convince you that I shall not starve here. For the rest I entreat you to keep up your spirits, for I consider that my good fortune is beginning now, and I hope that it will be yours also. Write to me privately that you are pleased—for indeed you may be so—and find fault heartily with me in public, so that no blame may attach to you. But if the Archbishop offers you the least impertinence come to me at once in Vienna. We can all three live on my earnings, I assure you on my word, but I would rather you held out a year longer. Do not write to me any more at the Residence or by the mail. I want to hear nothing more of Salzburg. I hate the Archbishop to frenzy. But write to me here, and tell me you are pleased, for only that is now wanting to make my happiness complete.

He carried out His determination, and writes to his father again on May 12:—

You know by my last letter that I sent in my resignation to the Prince on May 9, because he himself ordered it: for in two previous audiences he had said to me, "Take yourself off, if you will not serve me properly!" He will certainly deny it, but it is as true as the heavens above us. What wonder, then, that after being abused and vilified till I was quite RELEASE. beside myself, I ended by taking him at his word. The following day I gave Count Arco a petition to be presented to His Grace the Archbishop, asking for the money for the journey—fifteen florins ten kreutzers for the diligence, and two ducats for current expenses. He refused to take either, and assured me I could not resign without obtaining the consent of my father. "That is your duty," said he. I assured him that I knew my duty to my father as well as he and perhaps better, and that I should be sorry if it were necessary to learn it from him at this time of day. "Very well, then," said he, "if he is satisfied you may demand your dismissal, and if not—you may also demand it." A fine distinction, truly! All that the Archbishop said to me in the three audiences—especially in the last—and the language used by this truly worthy man of God, had so strong a physical effect on me that I was obliged to leave the opera at the end of the first act, and go home to bed; for I was quite feverish, trembled in every limb, and tottered along the street like a drunkard. I remained the next day (yesterday) in the house, and kept my bed in the morning because I had taken the tamarind-water.

My lord Count has had the kindness to write some fine things of me to his father (High Chamberlain), which you have doubtless had to swallow by this time. There will be some fabulous accounts, but when one writes a comedy one must turn and twist things so as to gain applause, without sticking to the truth of the affair, and you must take the obsequiousness of the Count into account. I will tell you without getting warm about it (for I have no wish to injure my health, and I am sorry enough when I am forced to be angry), I will tell you plainly the principal reproach made to me on account of my service. I did not know that I was to be a valet, and that undid me. I should have dawdled away a couple of hours every morning in the antechamber; I was in fact often told that I ought to show myself, but I could never remember that this was part of my duty, and contented myself with coming punctually when I was summoned by the Archbishop. Now I will briefly convey to you my unalterable determination, so that the whole world may hear it. If I was offered two thousand florins by the Archbishop of Salzburg, and only one thousand florins in any other place, I would go to the other place; for instead of the other one thousand florins I should enjoy health and contentment of mind. I pray you, therefore—by all the fatherly love that you have shown me in so rich a measure from my childhood, and for which I can never be sufficiently grateful—not to write to me on this matter, but to bury it in the deepest oblivion if you want to see your son cheerful and well; a word would be quite enough to rekindle my anger—and yours, if you were in my place, as I am sure you will acknowledge.

The same day on which Mozart sent this letter through the post he wrote another to his father by a safe opportunity, in which he once more seeks to persuade him of the justice JUSTIFICATION. of his fixed resolve to leave the Archbishop's service, and of his own good prospects in Vienna:—

In the letter which you will have received by post I spoke as though we were in the presence of the Archbishop; now I speak to you quite alone, my dear father. We will be silent once for all on the subject of the Archbishop's conduct to me from the beginning of his reign—of the unceasing abuse, the impertinence and bad language which he has addressed to my face, of the unquestionable right I have to forsake his service—not a word can be said against all this. I will only speak now of what has really induced me to leave him, laying aside all personal grounds of offence.

I have made the highest and most valuable acquaintances here that can be. I am treated with favour and distinction in the best houses of the nobility, and I am paid for it into the bargain; and shall I sacrifice all this for four hundred florins in Salzburg, without prospects, without encouragement, and unable to help you in any way, as I certainly shall hope to do here? What would be the end of it? It would come to the same thing. I should either fret myself to death or leave the service. I need say no more, you know it all yourself; I will only add that my story is known to the whole of Vienna, and all the nobility advise me not to suffer myself to be led about any longer. He will try to get over you with good words, my dear father—they are serpents, vipers! It is always so with such despicable creatures, they are so haughty and proud as to disgust one, and then they cringe and fawn—horrible. The two valets-de-chambre understand the whole villainy of the affair. Schlaucka said to somebody: "I cannot say I think Mozart at all in the wrong: he is quite right. I would have done just the same myself! He treated him like a beggar; I heard it myself. Shameful!" The Archbishop acknowledges to being in the wrong now; but had he not opportunities enough for acknowledging it before? And did he alter his conduct? Not a bit. Then away with all that! If I had not been afraid of doing you some harm I would have brought it to an end long ago. But, after all, what harm can he do you? None. If you know that I am doing well you can dispense with the Archbishop's favour. He cannot deprive you of your salary as long as you perform your duties, and I will answer for it that I shall do well, otherwise I should not have taken this step. Nevertheless I acknowledge that after this insult I should have resigned, if I had had to beg my bread. If you are at all afraid, make a show of anger against me—blame me as much as you like in your letters, if only we two know how the matter really stands. But do not be deceived by flattery. Be upon your guard!

But L. Mozart did not see the affair in this light, and was far from "strengthening his decision instead of dissuading him from it," as Wolfgang hoped. He considered the RELEASE. renunciation of the Salzburg situation as the first step to ruin, and hoped to check the passionate indignation of his son and bring him back to the path of reason, as he considered it. But he had not calculated on the fact that Wolfgang was no longer an inexperienced youth, leaving his father's house for the first time. The oppressive circumstances of his late residence in Salzburg, and the clear insight into his own powers and capabilities which he had acquired in Munich, had given him a consciousness of the necessity of judging for himself, which had been strengthened by the contrast between the unworthy treatment of the Archbishop and the brilliant reception he had met with on the part of the musical public of Vienna. He saw clearly that the time had arrived when he must hold his own, even in opposition to his father. His comfort and convenience he was ready and willing to sacrifice to his father's wishes, but his honour and the credit of his whole existence were now at stake, and these he must save at all risks. He withstood, therefore, all his father's remonstrances and reproaches without betraying his wounded feelings. To his father's objection that he had never understood how to take care of his money, Wolfgang answers (May 21, 1781):—

Believe me, I have quite changed in that respect. Next to health, I know of nothing more necessary than money. I am indeed no niggard—I should find it very hard to be niggardly—and yet people consider me more inclined to thrift than extravagance, which is surely enough for a beginning. Thanks be to my pupils, I have as much as I want; but I will not have many pupils, I prefer few, and to be better paid than other teachers.

He was more affected by the allusion to the obligation he was under to his father, by reason of the debts incurred by the latter on his behalf, especially since his father added that he would soon forget his family in Vienna, as his Aloysia had done. He answered (June 9, 1781):—

Your comparison of me to Madame Lange amazed me, and I was troubled by it the whole day. This girl lived dependent on her parents while she could earn nothing, and as soon as the time arrived when she might have shown her gratitude (her father died before she had received a kreutzer) she left her poor mother, took up with an actor, married L. MOZART S FEARS FOR HIS SON him, and her mother has not a farthing from them. 11 Good heavens! my one anxiety, God knows, is to help you and us all; how often must

I write that I can do it better here than in Salzburg? I beseech you, my dear, good father, write me no more such letters, for they serve no purpose but to annoy and trouble me; and if I am to go on composing as I do, I must keep a cool head and a calm mind.

He sent his father at the same time thirty ducats, with an apology for not being able to spare more at present, and in following years we find repeated mention of money sent home.

It had been reported to L. Mozart that Wolfgang was living a somewhat dissipated life in Vienna; Herr von Moll, in particular, "made a wry face, and said he hoped he would soon come to himself and return to Salzburg, for he only remained in Vienna for the sake of bad connections." It was reported to his father that Wolfgang had had dealings with a person of bad reputation, but he was able to reassure his father on this point. L. Mozart had been rendered uneasy, too, on the subject of his son's attention to religious duties. Wolfgang begs him to be under no apprehension, he is, no doubt, "a foolish young fellow," but he would wish for his consolation that no one was more so than he. Eating meat on fast-days he thought no sin, "for fasting I consider to be abstaining—eating less than at other times," but he never made a boast of this; he heard mass every Sunday and holy-day, and as often as possible on ordinary days. "Altogether you may rest assured that I have not deserted my religion. You, perhaps, believe things of me that are not true, for my chief fault is that I cannot always act in RELEASE. appearance as I ought to act" (June 13, 1781). Wolfgang's renewed intercourse with the Weber family appeared to his father of ill omen; he dreaded another love affair. This also his son repudiates (May 16, 1781):—

What you write concerning the Weber family is, I assure you, without foundation. I was a fool about Madame Lange, that is true; but who is not when he is in love? I loved her in very deed, and I still feel that she is not altogether indifferent to me. Luckily for me her husband is a jealous fool, and never leaves her alone, so that I rarely see her. Believe me also that old Madame Weber is a very obliging person, and that I only fail in showing her the attention her obligingness deserves; I have not time for it.

When finally his father went so far as to demand that Wolfgang should sacrifice his honour by recalling his resignation, he answered in the full consciousness of the justice of his position (May 19, 1781):—

I scarcely know how to write to you, my dear father, for I cannot recover from my astonishment, and I shall never be able to do so as long as you continue so to write and to think. I must acknowledge that I scarcely recognise my father in some of the passages of your letter! It is a father who writes, certainly, but not the best, most loving father, the one most anxious for his own honour and that of his children—in a word, not my father. But it must have been a dream. You are awake by this time, and need no reply from me on the various points of your letter in order to be convinced that I cannot, now less than ever, depart from my resolution. You say the only way to preserve my honour is to renounce my intention. How can you utter such a contradiction? You could not have realised, in writing this, that such a renunciation would turn me into one of the most cowardly fellows in the world. All Vienna knows that I have left the Archbishop, knows the reason to be my injured honour, knows of the thrice-repeated insults of the Archbishop; and am I all at once to retract my word and belie myself? Shall I announce myself as a scoundrel, and the Archbishop as a worthy prince? The first no man shall ever do, and I least of all; and the second no one can do but God himself, if He should deign to enlighten him. To please you, my dear father, I would renounce my happiness, my health, and life itself, but my honour comes before all with me, and so it must with you. My dearest, best of fathers, demand of me what you will, only not that—anything but that. The very thought makes me tremble with rage.

The Archbishop was not a little taken aback by the firmness with which Mozart held to his resolve, but which he COUNT ARCO INSULTS MOZART. only strengthened by his continual abuse, without bringing the Viennese round to his side. They all looked upon him as a "haughty, ill-bred priest, despised by everybody," while Mozart was "an agreeable fellow." The Archbishop imagined that Mozart's father would bring his son to a sense of his duty; Count Arco, who had received a letter from the elder Mozart, proposed an interview, in the hope of persuading him in a friendly way. Mozart remained all the firmer when he had convinced himself that his father in Salzburg had nothing to fear. He begged for an audience to take leave, but this was three times refused, because it was feared to irritate the Archbishop, and Mozart's submission was still hoped for. The latter was beside himself when he heard that the Archbishop was to leave next day, and that he had not been informed of it. He drew up a fresh memorial, in which he explained that he had waited four weeks for a final audience; as this had been postponed so long from reasons unknown to him, he had no resource but to beg for it himself at the last moment. When he found himself in the antechamber, in pursuance of this intention (June 8), and prayed for an audience, Count Arco put the finishing touch to the brutalities suffered by Mozart. After loading him with abusive epithets, he pushed him towards the door with his foot! "This happened in the antechamber—there was therefore nothing for it but to make my escape, for I did not wish to forget the respect due to the Prince's apartments, although Arco had done so." Whether this affront was offered by command of the Archbishop, Mozart did not know certainly; but, in any case, the servant was worthy of his master, and neither of them could foresee the ineffaceable stigma that would thereby be attached to their names. Mozart boiled over with rage; he answered his father that he should return the insult in kind the next time he met Count Arco, even if it were in the public streets:—

I shall demand no satisfaction at the hands of the Archbishop, for he would not be in a position to offer it me in the way that I shall take it; but I shall at once write to the Count what he has to expect from me the first time I am so fortunate as to meet him, wherever it may be, unless it should be some place to which I owe respect.

The father was alarmed at such threats addressed to a nobleman; but Wolfgang answered (July 20, 1781):—

The heart shows the true nobleman, and, although I am no Count, I am more honourable perhaps than many a Count; and whether it be a footman or a Count, whoever insults me is a scoundrel. I shall begin by representing to him how low and ungentlemanly his conduct was; but I shall conclude by telling him that he may certainly expect a thrashing from me the first time I meet him.

His father having remarked that the matter might perhaps be arranged by the intervention of a lady or of some other person of rank, Mozart answered that this was not necessary: "I shall take counsel only of my good sense and my heart, and shall do what is right and proper." It was only with reluctance, and because he saw no other way of pacifying his father, that he consented to forego the threatening letter to Count Arco.