It would have been convenient to them that Mozart should be in their immediate neighbourhood. But he was far from satisfied with the quarters which they offered him; it was a room "for rats and mice, but not for human beings. The stairs need a lantern to light them at noonday; and the room might be called a cell. The wife herself called the house a rat's nest—in fact it was really dreadful." Nor did he feel any inclination for closer intercourse with this family, whose motives in wishing for him he believed that he saw through. Seeing that his father had set his mind upon his going, he felt constrained to set the two sides of the question before him. The description which follows is somewhat "schlimm" certainly, but too characteristic of the writer to be omitted:—
He is the best-natured man in the world; too much so, indeed, for his wife—a stupid, silly chatterer—has quite the upper hand, so that when she speaks he has not a word to say. Whenever we go for a walk together he begs me not to mention in his wife's presence that we took a fiacre or drank some beer. Now I cannot possibly have confidence in such a man. He is a good fellow and my very good friend, and I can dine with him when I please, but I am not used to be paid for my civilities; indeed a dinner would scarcely be fitting payment, but people like these think so much of what they do. I will not attempt to describe the mother to you; one has enough to do at table to refrain from laughing at her. You know Frau Adlgasser? This creature is worse, for she is ill-natured as well as stupid. As for the daughter, if a painter wanted a model for the evil one he might have recourse to her face. She is as fat as a peasant-girl, and once seeing her is enough to make one wretched for the whole day. Pfui Teufel!
I wrote to you how she plays the clavier, and why she begged me to assist her.[ 4 ] She is not content that I should pass two hours every day JOSEPHINE AURNHAMMER. with her, she would like me to spend the whole day there, and then she makes herself agreeable! or rather, worse than that, she is seriously in love with me. I thought it was a joke, but I know it for certain now. When I first observed it (for she took liberties, reproaching me for coming later than usual, or not staying long enough, and other such things) I felt constrained to tell her the truth politely, for fear she should make a fool of herself. But it was of no use, she became more deeply in love. Then I tried being very polite until she began her nonsense, when I turned cross. Then she took me by the hand and said, "Dear Mozart, do not be so angry, and you may say what you like, I am so fond of you." It was the talk of the whole town that we were going to be married, and people wondered at my choice. She told me that when anything of the kind was said to her, she laughed at it; but I know from a certain person that she acknowledged it, with the addition that we should set out on our travels together as soon as we were married. That made me really angry. I gave her my true opinion on the subject, and reproached her with abusing my kindness. I have left off going there every day, and only go every other day, so as to break it off by degrees. She is an infatuated fool. Before she knew me, she said when she heard me at the theatre, "He is coming to me to-morrow, and I shall play him his variations in the same style." For this very reason I did not go. It was a conceited speech, and an untrue one, for I had had no intention of going there the following day.
All this did not prevent Mozart from assisting Fraulein Aurnhammer in his usual amiable manner. At a concert at Aurnhammer's (November 24, 1781) he played the Concerto a due (365 K.) with her, and a sonata which was composed expressly, and "went remarkably well" (381 K.).
A few months later he played a duet with her at one of his own concerts (May 25,1782), and postponed a journey to Salzburg because he had promised to play at her concert in the theatre (October 26, 1782). He also dedicated to her the sonatas for piano and violin which appeared in 1781 (376-380 K.).
In September he actually found a new lodging, but he was far from comfortable there; "it was like travelling in a post-chaise instead of one's own carriage." He had made COURTSHIP. the sacrifice for his father's sake, and he now took occasion to beg the latter not to listen to gossip, but to believe that he meant "to remain the same honest fellow as ever" (September 5, 1781). But the discomfort of his domestic circumstances in the midst of incessant work only increased his desire to set up an establishment of his own. The gossip of the town and his father's exhortations had produced a contrary effect to that intended, and his liking for Constanze Weber grew more decided day by day. He felt persuaded that she would make him happy, and, since she returned his affection, they became betrothed lovers. He could not disguise from himself that his father would certainly disapprove of this step, and he laid before him with great candour all that had led to it. After setting forth his prospects of an assured position, and the steps which he had taken towards obtaining it, he continues (December 15, 1781):—
My desire is to have something certain to fall back upon, and then one can live very well on chance here—and to get married. Nature speaks as loud in me as in any other, perhaps louder than in a great heavy blockhead. I have no inclination to live like most young men of the present day. In the first place I have too much love for religion, and in the second too much love for my neighbour, and too much good feeling to lead astray an innocent girl. I can take my oath I have never done so. But I know that this reason, strong as it is, is not elevated enough. But my temperament, which is inclined for a quiet domestic life —my want of habit of attending to my clothing, washing, and other such things—make a wife indispensable to me. I am quite persuaded that I could live better on the same income with a wife than as I am now. And how many unnecessary expenses would be done away with, others would arise; but one knows them and can calculate on them—in fact, one leads a regular life. An unmarried man only half lives, in my opinion. That is my opinion—I cannot help it; I have reflected and considered enough, and have quite made up my mind. But who, you will ask, is the object of my love? Do not be horrified, I beg. What! not a Weber! Yes, a Weber; not Josepha, nor Sophia, but Constanze, the middle one. I have never seen such dissimilarity of mind in any family as in this. The eldest, Josepha, is lazy and cross; Aloysia Lange is a false, unprincipled woman and a coquette; the youngest, Sophie, is too young to be anything yet but the good thoughtless creature she is. God keep her from temptation! But the middle one, my dear good Constanze, is the martyr of the family, and on that very account, perhaps, the best-natured, the cleverest—in a word, the best of them all. She looks after everything in the house, and yet can never BETROTHAL WITH CONSTANZE WEBER. do right. She is not ugly, but she is far from being beautiful. Her whole beauty consists in her dark eyes and good figure. She is not intellectual, but has common sense enough to fulfil her duties as a wife and mother. She is not inclined to extravagance, that is quite untrue; on the contrary, she is always badly dressed, for the little her mother can do is done for the two others, never for her. True, she likes to be neat and clean, but not smart; and almost all that a woman needs she can make for herself; she understands housekeeping, has the best heart in the world—she loves me and I love her—tell me if I could wish for a better wife? I must tell you that when I wrote before love was not there, but was born of her tender care and attention when I was living in the house. My earnest wish now is to get something settled to do (of which, God be praised, I have great hope), and I shall then hasten to beg your permission to rescue my poor darling, and make her and myself—indeed, I may say, all of us—happy, for does not my being happy render you so?
This confirmation of the news which had already reached him from other quarters was a heavy blow to L. Mozart. The perspective of "dying on a sack of straw in a room full of starving brats" which he had once before held out to his son (Vol. I., p. 426) opened itself to him anew; marriage without a certain and sufficient income was, in his opinion, and knowing his son as he did, the first step to certain ruin. And then the Weber family! The description which Wolf-gang gave of them was not calculated to inspire confidence; if he had been so completely deceived in Aloysia, who could answer for his better judgment with respect to Constanze? But his father knew more than he had learnt from Wolfgang; he knew that the latter had given a written promise of marriage, and, from all the communications he received, he could not but believe that both mother and daughter had been playing upon the young man's inexperience and sense of honour to entice him into their net. L. Mozart sought by every means in his power to influence his son; he demanded information as to the written agreement, that he might be satisfied that it did not exist, and that Wolfgang was bound only by his word. But Wolfgang showed himself firmer and more independent at this juncture than ever before; he had made up his mind, and it was not to be shaken.
He did not hesitate to explain the circumstances of the COURTSHIP. marriage contract (December 22, 1781). After the death of their father, the Weber children had been placed under the guardianship of Johann Thorwarth, court manager and inspector of the theatrical wardrobe, a man of considerable influence in matters theatrical, and well thought of by Count Rosenberg and Baron Kienmayer—"a sworn enemy of the Italians."[ 5 ] This man had been prejudiced against Mozart by calumniators, who represented that he had no certain income, and that he did not mean honestly by Constanze; this so disturbed the mother that she did not rest until she had induced Mozart to request an interview with the guardian. The interview took place, but the guardian was so little satisfied that he insisted on all intercourse with Mozart being broken off unless he would agree to a written contract. Madame Weber declared that this could not be; that all the intercourse consisted in Mozart's coming daily to their house, and that she could not possibly put a stop to it, seeing that she was under much obligation to him as a friend, and that she placed every confidence in his truth and honour; if the guardian thought such a step necessary, he must undertake it himself. Hereupon Thorwarth prohibited all intercourse unless Mozart would give a written agreement. He must make his choice. Having no intention of giving up Constanze or affording ground for suspicion to her friends, he signed an agreement by virtue of which he bound himself to espouse Mdlle. Constanze Weber within three years, or "in case of such an impossibility as his changing his mind," he was to pay her three hundred florins a year. He assured his father that there was no sort of risk in this, as he was finally resolved never to forsake her; but if such an unheard-of event were to occur, he would think himself easily bought off with three hundred florins; besides that his Constanze would, he knew, be far too proud to accept a price. "And what did the devoted girl do?" he continues; "as soon as the guardian had gone, she took the agreement from her mother, tore it up, and said: 'Dear Mozart, I need no written assurance SLANDEROUS REPORTS IN SALZBURG. from you; I can believe your simple word!'" It was thought best by them all to keep this transaction secret; but it gradually oozed out, until all Vienna knew of it. It might be wrong, and this part of the affair was blameable—thus much he acknowledged to his father; but neither the guardian nor the mother deserved to be branded as misleaders of youthful innocence; it was a falsehood that they had made him free of the house and then bound him in spite of himself—it was quite the contrary, and he would have known better than to give in to such conduct.
His indignation was raised to the highest pitch when he heard from his father that the most disgraceful falsehoods as to his dealings with Constanze had reached Salzburg by way of Munich, and were attributable to "that scoundrel" Winter, who had always hated him on Vogler's account.[ 6 ] Winter had been staying in Vienna with the bassoonist Reiner, and Mozart had sought him out as an old acquaintance. It was all the more infamous, since this very Winter, who "deserved the name neither of a man nor a human being," and to whose "infamous lies" Mozart would not condescend to oppose "infamous truths," had once said to him: "You will be foolish to marry; you can earn enough—why should you not keep a mistress? What prevents you? Is it your d——d religion?" (December 22, 1781).