The father was justly astonished at the demands made by Wolfgang on the talent of his pupil, and on the earnestness with which he threw himself into his task (May 28,1778):—
You write that you have just given Mdlle. de Guines her fourth lesson, and you want her to write down her own ideas; do you think that everybody has your genius? It will come in time. She has a good memory; let her steal, or more politely, adapt; it does no harm at the beginning, until courage comes. Your plan of variations is a good one, only persevere. If M. le Duc sees anything, however small, by his daughter, he will be delighted. It is really an excellent acquaintance.
But Wolfgang had not the art of cultivating such LIFE IN PARIS. acquaintances any more than of giving lessons in composition to young ladies of no talent; he wrote later that she was thoroughly stupid and thoroughly lazy (July 9, 1778), and in conclusion the Duke offered him two louis-d'or, which he indignantly rejected.
He had some other pupils, and might have had more had not the distances in Paris been so great that his time was too much curtailed thereby; he complains (July 31, 1778):—
It is no joke to give lessons here. You must not think that it is laziness; no! but it is quite against my nature, my way of life. You know that I, so to speak, live in music; that I am busy at it the whole day, planning, studying, considering. Lessons come in the way of this; I shall certainly have some hours free, but I need them rather for rest than for work.
Highly distasteful to him also were visits to people of rank, and attempts to gain their favour. He enumerates all the disagreeables of it (May 1, 1778):—
You write that I should pay plenty of visits to make new acquaintances and renew old ones. It is really impossible. To go on foot takes too long and makes one too dirty, for Paris is inconceivably filthy; and to drive costs four or five livres a day, and all for nothing; the people pay compliments and nothing more; engage me for such or such a day, and then I play, and they say "Oh! c'est un prodige, c'est inconcevable, c'est étonnant!" and then adieu. I have already spent money enough in that way, and often uselessly, for the people have been out. No one can know the annoyance of it who is not here. Paris is very much altered; the French are not nearly so polite as they were fourteen years ago; they approach very near to rudeness now, and are dreadfully arrogant.
The example which he gives his father sufficiently justifies his complaints, and is as significant of the impertinence of the nobility towards artists as of Mozart's powerlessness to resent such behaviour:—
M. Grimm gave me a letter to Madame la Duchesse de Chabot,[ 11 ] and I went there. The purport of the letter was principally to recommend me PARIS, 1778. to the Duchesse de Bourbon[ 12 ] (then in a convent),[ 13 ] and to bring me again to her remembrance. A week passed without any notice taken; but, as she had already commanded my presence in that time, I went. I was left to wait half an hour in an icily cold, very large room, with no stove or means of heating it. At last the Duchesse de Chabot came in, and politely begged me to make allowances for the clavier, since she had none in good order; would I try it? I said I should have been delighted to play something, but that I could not feel my fingers for the cold, and I begged her to allow me to go to a room where at least there was a stove. "Oh, oui, monsieur; vous avez raison," was her only answer. Then she sat down and began to draw for at least an hour with some other gentlemen, who all sat round a great table. I had the honour of standing waiting this hour. The doors and windows were open; very soon, not only my hands, but my feet and whole body were stiff with cold, and my head began to ache. No one spoke to me, and I did not know what to do for cold, headache, and fatigue. At last, to cut it short, I played on the wretched, miserable pianoforte. The most vexatious part of all was that Madame and all the gentlemen went on with their employment without a moment's pause or notice, so that I played for the walls and chairs. All these things put together were too much for my patience. I began the Fischer variations, played the half, and got up. Then followed no end of éloges. I said what was quite true, that I could do myself no credit with such a clavier, and that I should be very pleased to appoint another day when I could have a better clavier. But she did not consent, and I was obliged to wait another half-hour, till her husband came in.[ 14 ] But he sat down beside me, and listened with all attention; and then I—I forgot cold, and headache, and annoyance, and played on the wretched clavier as you know I can play when I am in a good humour. Give me the best clavier in Europe, but with an audience who do not or will not understand and feel with me when I play, and I lose all pleasure in it. I told the whole affair to M. Grimm.
Wolfgang tells his father (May 14, 1778) of a prospect of a settled position, in which, however, he was disappointed:—