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
