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.
