At the end of Währinger Street there was an inn, with a bowling alley; the proprietor, a master rope-maker, was as well known for his good beer as for the excellence of his ropes. Mozart heard the balls and saw a dozen or more guests within. A half-unconscious desire to forget himself among natural and unassuming people moved him to enter the garden. He sat down at one of the tables—but little shaded by the small trees—with an inspector of the water-works and two other Philistines, ordered his glass of beer, joined in their conversation, and watched the bowling.
Not far from the bowling-ground, toward the house, was the open shop of the rope-maker. It was a small room, full to overflowing; for, besides the necessaries of his trade, he had for sale all kinds of dishes and utensils for kitchen, cellar, and farm-oil and wagon grease, also seeds of various kinds, and dill and cheap brandy. A girl, who had to serve the guests and at the same time attend to the shop, was busy with a countryman, who, leading his little boy by the hand, had just stepped up to make a few purchases—a measure for fruit, a brush, a whip. He would choose one article, try it, lay it down, take up a second and a third, and go back, uncertainly, to the first one; he could not decide upon any one. The girl went off several times to wait on the guests, came back, and with the utmost patience helped him make his choice.
Mozart, on a bench near the alley, saw and heard, with great amusement, all that was going on. As much as he was interested in the good, sensible girl, with her calm and earnest countenance, he was still more entertained by the countryman who, even after he had gone, left Mozart much to think about. The master, for the time being, had changed places with him; he felt how important in his eyes was the small transaction, how anxiously and conscientiously the prices, differing only by a few kreutzers, were considered. "Now," he thought, "the man will go home to his wife and tell her of his purchases, and the children will all wait until the sack is opened, to see if it holds anything for them; while the good wife will hasten to bring the supper and the mug of fresh home-brewed cider, for which her husband has been keeping his appetite all day. If only I could be as happy and independent waiting only on Nature, and enjoying her blessings though they be hard to win! But if my art demands of me a different kind of work, that I would not, after all, exchange for anything in the world, why should I meanwhile remain in circumstances which are just the opposite of such a simple and innocent life? If I had a little land in a pleasant spot near the village, and a little house, then I could really live. In the mornings I could work diligently at my scores; all the rest of the time I could spend with my family. I could plant trees, visit my garden, in the fall gather apples and pears with my boys, now and then take a trip to town for an opera, or have a friend or two with me—what delight! Well, who knows what may happen!"
He walked up to the shop, spoke to the girl, and began to examine her stock more closely. His mind had not quite descended from its idyllic flight, and the clean, smooth, shining wood, with its fresh smell, attracted him. It suddenly occurred to him that he would pick out several articles for his wife, such as she might need or might like to have. At his suggestion, Constanze had, a long time ago, rented a little piece of ground outside the Kärnthner Thor, and had raised a few vegetables; so now it seemed quite fitting to invest in a long rake and a small rake and a spade. Then, as he looked further, he did honor to his principles of economy by denying himself, with an effort and after some deliberation, a most tempting churn. To make up for this, however, he chose a deep dish with a cover and a prettily carved handle; for it seemed a most useful article. It was made of narrow strips of wood, light and dark, and was carefully varnished. There was also a particularly fine choice of spoons, bread-boards, and plates of all sizes, and a salt-box of simple construction to hang on the wall.
At last he spied a stout stick, which had a handle covered with leather and studded with brass nails. As the strange customer seemed somewhat undecided about this also, the girl remarked with a smile that that was hardly a suitable stick for a gentleman to carry. "You are right, child," he answered. "I think I have seen butchers carry such sticks. No, I will not have it. But all the other things which we have laid out you may bring to me today or tomorrow." And he gave his name and address. Then he went back to the table to finish his beer. Only one of his former companions was sitting there, a master-tinker.
"The girl there has had a good day for once," he remarked. "Her uncle gives her a commission on all that she sells."
Mozart was now more pleased with his purchase than ever. But his interest was to become still greater. For, in a moment, as the girl passed near, the tinker called out, "Well, Crescenz, how is your friend the locksmith? Will he soon be filing his own iron?" "Oh," she answered without stopping, "that iron is still growing deep in the mountain."
"She is a good goose," said the tinsmith. "For a long time she kept house for her stepfather, and took care of him when he was ill; but after he died it came out that he had spent all her money. Since that she has lived with her uncle, and she is a treasure, in the shop, in the inn, and with the children. There is a fine young apprentice who would have liked to marry her long ago, but there is a hitch somewhere."
"How so? Has he nothing to live on?"
"They both have saved a little, but not enough. Now comes word of a good situation and a part of a house in Ghent. Her uncle could easily lend them the little money that they need, but of course he will not let her go. He has good friends in the council and in the union, and the young fellow is meeting with all sorts of difficulties."