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}
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_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
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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.}
(173)
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
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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.}
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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
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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.}
(177)
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
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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.}
(179)
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
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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.}
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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
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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}
(183)
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.}
(184)
_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.}
(185)
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.
{FIRST ATTEMPTS IN VIENNA.}
(186)
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.
FOOTNOTES OF CHAPTER XXIII.
[Footnote 1: Nicolai, Reise, V., p. 231.]
[Footnote 2: This rondo (373 K.) was composed, according to the autograph, on
April 2, 1781, for Brunetti; it is in C major (allegretto grazioso 2-4,)
accompanied by the quartet, two oboes, and two horns, and is simple and
graceful without much demand of execution.]
[Footnote 3: The unfinished allegro movement in B flat major (372 K.), begun
on March 24, 1781, probably belongs to this sonata, which was not
afterwards written down.]
[Footnote 4: The words of the rondo (374 K., Concertarien, No. 5), "A questo
seno," appear to have been taken from an opera called "Zeira." A short
recitative introduces the rondo, of which the theme is thrice repeated
and closes with a coda. The song is simple throughout, without any
passages, and for a voice of moderate compass; the accompaniment
(the quartet, two oboes and two horns) is also easy. It is plain that
Ceccarelli was a singer of no pretensions. The cantilene, however, is
expressive, and there are some original harmonic touches.]
[Footnote 5: The mother of the composer, at that time prima donna at the German
Theatre (Jahrb. d. Tonkunst, 1796, p. 69).]
[Footnote 6: "The Imperial Councillor, Von Braun, is one of our greatest musical
connoisseurs. He thinks very highly of the compositions of the great Ph.
Emanuel Bach; and here he is opposed by the majority of the public in
Vienna." (Nicolai, Reise, IV., p. 556.)]
[Footnote 7: There was a chorus of 200 voices for Dittersdorf s "Esther," 1772
(Selbst-biogr., p. 203). K. R[isbeck] speaks of 400 assistants (Briefe,
I., p. 276).]
[Footnote 8: At his concert in Leipzig he played these variations again after an
improvised fantasia (354 K.).]
[Footnote 9: Neue Wien. Musikzeitg., 1852, No. 35.]
[Footnote 10: So it had been promised (Vol. II., p. 65); but Mozart asserts
repeatedly that he only had a salary of 400 florins (Vol. II., pp. 176,
181).]
[Footnote 11: The representations of Aloysia's mother, which Mozart afterwards
learned to receive with caution, may have had some influence on his
judgment of Aloysia. The account given by her husband, Jos. Lange, is
very different. He narrates in his autobiography (p. 116) that they
conceived an attachment for each other soon after Aloysia's arrival in
Vienna: "She had the misfortune to lose her father by a fit of apoplexy.
Her inconsolable grief, and my care for her family, drew us closer
together; my sympathy lightened her sorrowing heart, and she consented
to marry me, hoping to find in her husband the friend she had lost in
her father. As she had contributed to the support of her family by
the exercise of her talent, she continued to make her mother an annual
allowance of 700 gulden, and paid her an advance of 900 gulden which had
been made to the family by the court."]