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manner possible' (December 21,1782). During the following winter he again played regularly for Prince Gallitzin, also for Count Johann Esterhazy, Count Zichy, &c. He calculates for his father's benefit that, from February 26 till April 3, he would have to play five times for Gallitzin, and nine times for Esterhazy, to which might be added three of Richter's concerts and five of his own, besides chance invitations. "Have I not enough to do?" he asks. "I do not think I shall be allowed to get out of practice." When his father was in Vienna in 1785, he wrote to his daughter that Wolfgang's harpsichord had been to the theatre and to different private houses quite twelve times between February 11 and March 12.[64] What amount of fee Mozart received for his performances in private we have no means of ascertaining; in general, however, the aristocracy were accustomed to reward distinguished artists according to their deserts, and the exceptional position of the Viennese nobility enabled the artists to accept their liberality without loss of dignity; the more so as it was usually founded on sentiments of esteem and consideration. That the friendly demeanour of persons of high rank was highly prized by the artists themselves, there can be no doubt; nor would there be wanting some who sought to merit it by servile adulation. From any tinge of this Mozart was absolutely free; not only was he unfettered by the forms of social class distinctions, but he moved in society with all the independence of a distinguished man, without laying claim to the license usually accorded to artists of genius. The etiquette of rank was no bar to his intimacy with Prince Karl Lichnowsky; and another of his true friends was Count August Hatzfeld, who had carefully cultivated a considerable musical talent, and was a first-rate quartet violinist. He became so imbued with the spirit of Mozart's quartets, that the latter was said to have declared that he liked nobody's execution of them so well as Count

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Hatzfeld's.[65] The song in "Idomeneo" with obbligato violin was composed for him. His noble character won for him universal esteem, which was intensified by the calmness with which he met death in his thirty-first year (Bonn, 1787). Mozart wrote to his father in a very serious letter (April 4, 1787):--

On this subject (death and dying) I have already expressed my mind to you on the occasion of the melancholy death of my best and dearest friend, Count von Hatzfeld. He was thirty-one--just my age. I do not mourn for _him_, but for myself and for all those who knew him as I did.

Mozart also gave regular musical performances every Sunday morning in his own house; he used to invite his friends, and musical amateurs were admitted on payment. Kelly relates[66] that he never missed one of these. I find them mentioned elsewhere also, and have heard of them from old people who took part in them during the last years of Mozart's life. They were always well attended; but whether Mozart's public concerts were continued with unabated success after the year 1788, or whether the time had come when he was to experience "the fickleness" of the Viennese, I have no means of determining with exactitude. He wrote three symphonies in June, July, and August of 1788, whence it may be concluded that he was giving concerts during that time; and, by the same reasoning, the absence of any symphonies or concertos composed during the years immediately following would prove that no concerts were then given. His pecuniary embarrassments during those years tell the same tale; and the cutting off of this important contribution to his income seems to have occasioned his journeys to Berlin and Frankfort. Not until January, 1791, do we meet with another pianoforte concerto in B flat major (595 K., No. 15) that was no doubt intended for a Lenten concert.

The publication of his compositions, which in the present day would have been Mozart's chief dependence, was by no means profitable, as matters then stood. The music trade

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of the day was small and insignificant; indeed, the first impulse was given to it by the publication of an edition of all Mozart's works soon after his death. During his life, however, compositions were more often copied than printed;[67] and the composer was obliged to keep careful watch lest copies should be distributed which were not ordered from him, and which in consequence he was never paid for. It need scarcely be said that caution such as this was not in Mozart's nature, and that copies of his works were frequently made and sold without his knowledge. Different musical firms (Joh. Traeg, Lausch, Torricella, &c.) advertised copies of his compositions for sale under his very eyes; nor was this conduct, however undesirable, thought unworthy of a respectable tradesmen. He was careful only of his concertos; too much depended on his keeping possession of them, and not allowing any one to play them who chose. His three first concertos, indeed, he thought it advisable to publish himself by a subscription of six ducats (December 23, 1782). He offered them afterwards to the "highly respectable public" for four ducats, "beautifully copied and revised by himself."[68] Even this his father thought too dear; but Mozart thought that the concertos were worth the money, and could not be copied for it.

When sending his father those composed in the following year, he wrote (May 24, 1784): "I can wait patiently until you send them back, so long as they do not fall into any one else's hands; I might have had twenty-four ducats for one of them to-day; but I think it will be to my advantage to keep them a couple of years by me, and then to have them printed." He used to take only the orchestral parts with him on his journeys, and to play himself from a clavier part of most extraordinary appearance, according to Rochlitz.[69] It consisted of only the figured bass and the principal

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motifs, with hints for the passages, runs, &c.; he depended on his memory, which never by any chance failed him. In 1788 he advertised copies of three quintets for four ducats.[70]

As far, then, as concertos and symphonies were concerned, the composer made his principal profit by his own performance of them; but he was also called upon to write different things for other people. Mozart wrote many compositions for his pupils, an extraordinary number for his friends and acquaintance, and not a few to order on particular occasions. Among the latter class are the quartets written for Frederick William II., in 1789 and 1790 (575, 589, 590, K.), for which he was doubtless well paid; it was said that he received for the first a valuable gold snuff-box and a hundred friedrichs-d'or.[71] It is well known that one hundred ducats were paid in advance for the Requiem, and something may have come in for the adaptation of Handel's oratorios, ordered by Van Swieten in 1788 and 1789, as well as for here and there a commission or dedication. But a closer examination of the long list of Mozart's compositions of this class makes it probable that they were not for the most part profitable to him. A characteristic anecdote is related of him by his widow, which bears out this supposition.[72] At one of Mozart's Sunday matinées there was present a Polish Count, who was very much delighted with the new (composed March 30, 1784) pianoforte quintet with wind instruments. He commissioned Mozart to write a trio with obbligato flute, which the latter promised to do. As soon as he arrived at home, the Count sent Mozart a hundred half-louis with a very polite note, repeating his thanks for the pleasure the music had given him. The terms of the note left Mozart no doubt that the money was a generous gift, and he returned the politest acknowledgment, at the same time sending the Count, contrary to his custom, the original score of the quintet he had so much admired. A year after the Count came again to Mozart and inquired after the trio. Mozart excused himself by saying he had not yet found himself in the humour to

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write anything worthy of the Count's acceptance. "Then, no doubt," answered the Count, "you will find yourself still less in the humour to return me the hundred half-louis which I paid you for it." Mozart returned the money, but the Count kept the score of the quintet, which was soon after printed in Vienna without Mozart's permission. Against such persons and such behaviour Mozart had no weapons but a shrug of the shoulders, and a--"The rascal!" It may well be supposed that others besides this Polish Count took advantage of such easy-going good-nature. But the publishers must not be credited with more than their share of blame.[73] Variations and similar trifles were doubtless often printed without the composer's consent, and brought in considerable profits in which he had no share. But the more important of his works which appeared during his lifetime were either printed by subscription or trusted for publication to Torricella, Artaria, and Hoffmeister. I have only in one case been able to discover the amount paid to him; he wrote to his father, who communicated it to his daughter (January 22, 1785) that he had sold his quartets dedicated to Jos. Haydn to Artaria for one hundred ducats. This was a considerable sum for those days, and the reception given to the quartets on their appearance might well cause the publisher to fear he had paid too dear for them. It is said that the two beautiful pianoforte quartets in G minor (478 K., composed in July, 1785) and in E flat major (493 K., composed in June, 1786), were only the commencement of a series bespoken by Hoffmeister; but the public finding them too difficult, and refraining from buying them, he allowed Mozart to retain the money he had paid in advance, and gave up the continuation.[74] The popularity gained by Mozart's greater works must always have been of gradual growth, since they were considered in every respect too difficult, and it is quite credible that Hoffmeister said, as was reported of him:[75] "Write more popularly, or else I can neither print nor pay for anything more of yours!"

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nor is it less credible that Mozart should have answered: "Then I will write nothing more, and go hungry, or may the devil take me!"

A note written to Hoffmeister on November 20, 1785, is indeed in quite another tone:[76]--

Dear Hoffmeister,--I have recourse to you, and beg you to assist me with a little money, of which I am much in want at present. I earnestly entreat you to send me what I require as soon as possible. Pardon my troubling you so much, but you know me, and are aware how much I have your affairs at heart, so that I am convinced that you will not be offended at my importunities, but will be as ready to show yourself my friend as I am yours.

A very enterprising publisher, Commerzienrath Hummel, of Berlin, maintained that, though not musical, he could tell by the look of a composition whether it would suit him. He had a poor opinion of Mozart, and used to boast of having sent him back various works.[77]

Rochlitz relates, as an instance of Mozart's ill-treatment at the hands of theatrical managers,[78] that Schikaneder paid nothing for the "Zauberflöte," and even, contrary to the agreement, sold the score without his knowledge. Seyfried,[79] on the other hand, maintains that Schikaneder paid Mozart a hundred ducats, and resigned the net profits of the sale of the score to his widow. Be this as it may, Schikaneder's treatment of Mozart must not be considered illustrative of that which he usually received from his managers. A hundred ducats was then the usual payment in Vienna for an opera. This sum Mozart received for the "Entführung," for "Figaro," and no doubt also for "Cosi fan Tutte." For "Don Giovanni" he had 225 florins. To this were usually added the proceeds of a benefit performance (and another for the poet), which of course depended on the popularity of the composer with the public. Mozart does not mention the benefit performance of the

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"Entführung"; but both in this case and that of "Figaro" it must have had considerable results.[80] Bondini paid a hundred ducats for "Don Giovanni." The Bohemian States, who ordered the "Clemenza di Tito" for their coronation festival, can scarcely have offered him less remuneration; even the manager Guardasoni, who was famous for his parsimony, "almost agreed" in the year 1785 to give Mozart "two hundred ducats for an opera and fifty ducats travelling expenses," as he informs his wife--an agreement, however, which was never carried out.[81]

In this respect, therefore, Mozart was not behind contemporary composers. With regard to performances on foreign stages, we have no definite information as to whether his permission was asked or paid for,[82] but we may gather something from the ordinary usages of the time. It was the traditional custom in Italy that whoever ordered the opera should pay for it; what became of the score afterwards was generally left to chance. The impresario remained in possession of it, and usually allowed the copyist to make what profit he could out of the sale of it (Vol. I., p. 131); but the composer also kept the score, and seems to have distributed it wherever he thought he might gain honour or profit by it. In Germany the case was altered, since there the composer had generally to do with a court theatre. In Mannheim and Munich he retained undivided possession of the score (Vol. II., p. 141).[83] Mozart rejoiced that Baron Riedesel had asked him for the "Entführung" and not the copyist (Vol. II., p. 213). As a matter of course foreign theatres took the easiest course open to them to obtain possession of the score. When they applied to the composer it was only because they saw no other way of getting it, or for some special reason. Any question of

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the composer's rights or the theatrical manager's obligations seems never to have occurred to either party. A careful hold of the score and watchful supervision of the copyist were the only means of protection. These did not go far, nor was Mozart the man to make use of them. When, therefore, his operas appeared on foreign boards without any compensation to himself, he only shared the fate of most of his contemporaries, nor does he seem to have complained of it. He is glad to write to his father (December 6, 1783) that his "Entführung" had been well and successfully performed in Prague and Leipzig; and he rejoiced again when "Figaro" was given in Prague and "Don Giovanni" in Vienna; but there is no mention of payment.

If we summarise these financial remarks, we shall arrive at the conclusion that in view of the importance of his works, and the profits afterwards made on them both by the theatres and the publishers, Mozart was very inadequately paid; but this standard cannot be unreservedly applied to them. The conditions and fluctuations of profit to which even artists are subject are ruled by the prevalent type of living among citizens and the higher classes; the close-fisted organisation of a community of merchants and traders cares little for the comet-like course of an artistic genius, and is only too likely to give it an altogether wrong direction or to ruin it at the outset. From a pecuniary point of view we must acknowledge that Mozart was on the whole as well treated as the majority of his fellow-artists; that both as a composer and a performer he was sometimes no worse, sometimes better, paid than others; that he had no lack of opportunities for earning money, and that in point of fact he had a very good income. If Mozart had possessed the same capacity for business as his father or Joseph Haydn, he would no doubt have reaped far greater advantages from his position in Vienna; but even on what he actually earned he might have lived in ease and plenty. Without ourselves going into calculations on the subject, we have a trustworthy witness for it in Leopold Mozart. During his visit to Vienna, in 1785, he had a watchful eye on the earnings and expenditure of his son, and wrote to his

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daughter (March 19, 1785): "I believe that, _if he has no debts to pay_, my son can now lay by two thousand florins; the money is certainly there, and the household expenses, so far as eating and drinking are concerned, could not be more economical." How far removed was Mozart from such providence! From the time of his marriage we find him in constantly recurring money difficulties; a long list of melancholy documents lets us into the vexations, cares, and humiliations which were the inevitable consequences of his improvidence. Scarcely six months after their marriage the wedded couple were obliged to apply to the Baroness von Waldstädten in the following note, in order to avert a threatened action-at-law by one of their creditors:--

Most honoured Baroness,--I find myself in a fine position, truly! We agreed with Herr von Tranner lately that we should have a fortnight's grace. As this is customary with every merchant, unless he be the most disobliging fellow in the world, I thought nothing more of it, and hoped, if I could not pay the amount myself, at least to be able to borrow it. Now Herr von Tranner sends me word that he positively refuses to wait, and if I do not pay him between to-day and to-morrow he will bring an action against me! I cannot pay him even the half of it. If I had had any idea that the subscriptions for my concert would come in so slowly, I would have fixed the payment for a later date. I pray your ladyship, for Heaven's sake, to help me to preserve my honour and my good name! My poor little wife is feeling poorly, and I cannot leave her, or else I would come myself and beg this favour of you by word of mouth..We kiss your ladyship's hand a thousand times, and beg to remain your ladyship's obedient children,

February 15, 1783.

W. A. and C. Mozart.

In July of the same year, when he was setting out for Salzburg, and actually in the act of entering his carriage, he was stopped by an importunate creditor for the paltry claim of thirty florins, which, nevertheless, he found it difficult to satisfy.[84] And not long after his return to Vienna he was disagreeably surprised by a demand for twelve louis-d'or, which he had borrowed at Strasburg in 1778. He was obliged to write to his father:--

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You will remember that when you came to Munich, where I was writing the great opera, you reproached me for having borrowed twelve louis-d'ors from Herr Scherz, at Strasburg, with the words, "Your want of confidence in me disappoints me--but enough; I suppose I shall have the honour of paying the twelve louis-d'or." I travelled to Vienna, you to Salzburg. What could I suppose from your words but that I need think no more of the debt--or at least, that you would write to me if you did not pay it, or speak about it when I saw you in Salzburg? I ask nothing further of you, my dear father, than that you will be my security for a month. Had he demanded payment during the first year I could have done it at once and with pleasure; and I will pay him as it is, only I am not in a position to do so at this moment.

In the very same year that his father boasts of his finances, we find him in a difficulty which necessitated his applying to his publisher, Hoffmeister, who put him off with a couple of ducats. But the saddest insight into the embarrassed and humiliating position in which Mozart found himself after the year 1788 is afforded by his letters to his friend, Michael Puchberg, a wealthy merchant,[85] musical himself, and with two daughters, one of whom distinguished herself as a clavier-player. He was a Freemason, and it seems to have been through the lodge that an intimacy was founded close enough to warrant Mozart's constant application to him for assistance. His wish to borrow a sum sufficiently large to be of permanent benefit to him, either from Puchberg himself or by his instrumentality, was not granted. So that when his rent became due, or his wife's doctor's bill, or a stay in the country had to be provided for, he was constantly obliged to claim assistance from his friend. Whenever it was possible Mozart strove to meet his household embarrassments in a joking mood. In the winter of 1790 Joseph Deiner, the landlord of the "Silver Serpent," who was of use to Mozart in many of his household affairs, called upon him one day and found him in his workroom dancing about with his wife. On Deiner's asking him if he was giving his wife dancing lessons, Mozart answered, laughing, "We are

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warming ourselves, because we are very cold, and have no money to buy fuel." Thereupon Deiner ran home and brought them some wood, which Mozart accepted and promised to pay him for as soon as he made any money.[86] But dancing will not satisfy every need, and the faithful Puchberg was never weary of assisting Mozart. He sent him larger or smaller sums, which Mozart was never in a position to repay, so that after his death his liabilities amounted to one thousand florins. Puchberg, who was of great service to Mozart's widow in the ordering of her affairs, postponed his claims for several years, so as to give her the opportunity of paying him by degrees, as her circumstances improved.[87] Mozart had recourse to other friends besides Puchberg; in April, 1789, he borrowed one hundred florins from an aspirant to Freemasonry, named Hofdemel, as is testified by the existing letter and note of hand.[88] It was not likely that assistance of this kind would materially improve Mozart's position. In 1790, when he undertook the journey to Frankfort, in the result of which he had placed great hopes, he was obliged to raise his travelling expenses by pawning plate and ornaments;[89] and the financial transaction of which he speaks in his letters to his wife, whereby somebody was to hand him over one thousand florins on Hoffmeister's endorsement, shows clearly enough that he had fallen into the hands of usurers, from whom he had striven in vain to free himself by Puchberg's intervention. These facts prove only too clearly that from the time of his marriage Mozart became gradually entangled in a net of embarrassments, without any hope of permanent extrication. His letters show how deeply he felt the cares and humiliations of his position. The circumstances of so public a character could not remain long concealed in Vienna, even had he been less injudiciously open than he was; after his death ill-natured gossip exaggerated his debts to a sum of thirty thousand florins, and the rumour reached the ear of the Emperor Leopold. The widow, informed of this by a

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friend of high rank, explained the calumny to the Emperor, and assured him that three thousand florins would cover all Mozart's debts. The Emperor gave her generous assistance as soon as the facts and extenuating circumstances had been made known to him,[90] but he refused a pension.

The same charitable dispositions which settled the amount of Mozart's debts were also busy in accounting for the fact of their existence. How could they have been contracted but by dissipation, irregular living, and extravagance?[91] Against such accusations we must listen to Mozart himself, who would hardly have had the face to appeal to his manner of life and well-known habits in applying for help to his intimate friend Puchberg, if he had been conscious of such improprieties as those with which he was charged. Leopold Mozart's testimony is unimpeachable as to the economy of the housekeeping in the matter of eating and drinking, and it was confirmed by Sophie Haibl. It may be thought that the father purposely limits his praise of Wolfgang's economy to matters of eating and drinking, and this is no doubt quite possible. Mozart was very neat and particular in his dress, and fond of lace and watch-chains.[92] Clementi

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took him for a valet-de-chambre on account of his elegant appearance, and his handsome attire is referred to on various occasions. His father writes mockingly to his daughter from Vienna (April 16, 1785) that Wolfgang and Madame Lange had intended going with him to Munich, but nothing was likely to come of it, "although each of them have had six pairs of shoes made, which are all standing there now." It may well be then that Mozart was not over-economical in his dress; at the same time there is no reason to accuse him of extravagant foppery.

The excess of which Mozart was mainly accused, however, was not of this kind at all, but lay more in the direction of sensual indulgence. He had always been extremely fond of cheerful society and the manifold distractions it brought with it; nay, it was quite a necessity to him, as a refreshment after long-sustained mental efforts. Mozart gave no parties at home, but his wife used to organise little musical performances on family festivals or to amuse her husband; few friends were present on such occasions, and Haydn's music was generally preferred by Mozart himself.[93]

There can have been no lack of opportunities for intercourse with his fellow-artists and with the numerous accomplished and wealthy amateurs then in Vienna, and we can well imagine that Mozart's social impulses found constant and lively exercise. Music was the principal object of meeting, and Mozart brought his tribute to the entertainment in the form of improvisation, both grave and gay; he was a lively and cheerful companion, too, in other respects, always ready for a joke, and fond of exercising his gift for improvising comic doggerel verses.[94]

Of all amusements, Mozart was fondest of dancing, and

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found ample opportunity for indulging his passion in Vienna, where dancing was at that time an absolute rage.[95] His wife confided to Kelly, who saw Mozart dance on the occasion of their first meeting, that her husband was an enthusiastic dancer, and thought more of his performances in that line than in music; he was said to dance the minuet very beautifully.[96] His letters have many indications of this partiality, and he gives his father a merry and complacent account of a ball at his own house (January 22, 1783):--

Last week I gave a ball in my own house; but of course the gentlemen paid two florins each. We began at six o'clock in the evening and left off at seven. What! only one hour? No, no; seven o'clock in the morning! You will scarcely believe that I could find room for it.

He had lately moved, and had taken apartments with Herr von Wezlar, a rich Jew:--

There I have a room a thousand paces long, and a bedroom, then an anteroom, and then a fine large kitchen; there are two fine large rooms next to ours, which stand empty at present, and these I made use of for the ball. Baron Wezlar and his wife were there, so were the Baroness Waldstädten, Herr von Edelbach, Gilowsky the boaster, young Stephanie, Adamberger and his wife, the Langes, &c.

Still more exciting entertainments were the masked balls; and we have already seen (Vol. I.,p. 337) that Mozart possessed both inclination and talent for disporting himself in assumed characters. He writes from Vienna (January 22, 1788), begging his father to send him his harlequin's dress, because he would like to go on the Redoute as harlequin: "but so that nobody should know it; there are so many here (chiefly great asses) who go on the Redoute." Several good friends associated themselves into a "compagnie-masque," and performed a pantomime on Whit Monday, which filled up the half-hour before dancing began. Mozart was Harlequin, Madame Lange Columbine, Lange played Pierrot, an old dancing-master named Merk, who "drilled" the company, took Pantaloon, and the painter Grassi the Doctor.

The plot and music were by Mozart, the doggerel verses

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with which the pantomime was introduced by the actor Müller; it might have been better, Mozart thought, but he was satisfied with the acting: "I assure you we played very well," he informs his father (March 12,1783). Of the music for this pantomime thirteen numbers for stringed instruments in parts are preserved, the first violin written by Mozart (446 K.) It is, as may be imagined, very unpretending, as are also the briefly indicated situations; for instance: "Columbine is sad--Pantaloon makes love to her--she is angry--he is gay--she angry--he angry too."

Another passion of Mozart's was billiard-playing; Kelly relates that he often played with Mozart, but never won a game.[97] He had a billiard-table in his own house, and played with his wife in case of need,[98] or even quite alone. This was certainly a luxury, though far from an unusual one in Vienna at that time, and it was occasioned not solely from love of the game,[99] but, as Holmes rightly remarks, from the care of the physicians for Mozart's health.

In the spring of 1783 he was seized with cholera, which was raging as an epidemic,[100] and in the following summer he was again seriously ill, as Leopold Mozart informs his daughter (September 14, 1784):--

My son has been very ill in Vienna. He was very much overheated at Paesiello's new opera, "Il Reteodoro," and was obliged to go into the open air to look for the servant who had charge of his overcoat, because orders had been given that no servants should be admitted to the theatre by the ordinary entrance. This brought on rheumatic fever, which without careful attention might have turned to typhus. Wolfgang writes: "I have had raging colic every day for a fortnight at the same hour, accompanied by violent vomiting. My doctor, Herr Sigmund Barisani, was in the habit of visiting me almost daily even before this illness; he is very clever, and you will see that he will soon make himself a name."

Barisani was the son of the Archbishop's physician at Salzburg, an intimate friend of the Mozart family. He was of it!"

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distinguished in his profession, becoming later chief physician at the general hospital, and a warm friend and admirer of Mozart. A charming memorial of their friendship is preserved at the Mozarteum in Salzburg, in the form of some affectionate verses addressed to Mozart by Barisani, bearing date April 14, 1787. Underneath Mozart has written the following lines:--

To-day, September 3 of this same year, I was so unfortunate as to lose by death this noble-natured man, my dearest, best friend, and the saviour of my life. It is well with him! but with me--us--and all who knew him--it can never be well again, until we are so happy as to meet him in another world _never to part again._

Barisani, seeing the impossibility of altogether weaning Mozart from the habit of writing far into the night, and very often as he lay in bed in the morning, endeavoured to avert the hurtful consequences in another way. He recommended him not to sit so long at the clavier, but at all events to compose standing, and to take as much bodily exercise as he could.[101] His love of billiard-playing gave the doctor a welcome pretext for turning this motive into a regular one; Mozart was equally fond of bowls, and he was the more ready to follow the doctor's directions with regard to both games since they did not interfere with his intellectual activity. It happened one day in Prague that Mozart, while he was playing billiards, hummed an air, and looked from time to time into a book which he had with him; it appeared afterwards that he had been occupied with the first quintet of the "Zauberflote."[102] When he was writing down the score of "Don Giovanni" in Duschek's garden, he took part at the same time in a game of quoits; he stood up when his turn came round, and sat down again to his writing after he had thrown.[103]

But what of Mozart's inclination for strong drink, so often talked of? There can be no doubt that he was very fond of punch; Kelly speaks of it,[104] and Sophie Haibl does not

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disguise that her brother-in-law loved a "punscherl," but she also asserts that he had never taken it immoderately, and that she had never seen him intoxicated.[105] That he was capable of wild excess is contradicted by his whole nature and by his conduct through life; but these make it probable that he did not disdain the _poculum hilaritatis_ in cheerful society, and that he gave vent to his spirits in a manner more unrestrained than it should have been.[106]

But Mozart also fortified himself with a glass of wine or punch when he was in the throes of composition. In one of his apartments his immediate neighbour was Joh. Mart. Loibl, who was musical and a Freemason, consequently intimate with Mozart; he had a well-filled wine-cellar, of the contents of which he was never sparing in entertaining his friends. The partition wall between the houses was so thin, that Mozart had only to knock when he wished to attract Loibl's attention; whenever Loibl heard the clavier going and taps at his wall between the pauses, he used to send his servant into the cellar, and say to his family, "Mozart is composing again; I must send him some wine."[107] His wife made him punch, too, when he was writing the overture to "Don Giovanni" the night before its performance. Whoever casts a glance over Mozart's scores will see that they could not have been written in the excitement caused by wine, so neat and orderly are they even to the smallest details, and in spite of the most rapid execution; and those who are in a position to examine any one of his compositions will not need to be told that no intellect overstrained and excited by artificial means could possibly have produced such perfect clearness and beauty. Whether Mozart was right in providing a bodily stimulus in the form of strong drink during a continuous intellectual strain may well be doubted; experience and opinions differ widely on this point. Goethe advised that there should be no forcing an

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unproductive mood into activity by external means of any kind; but he answered Eckermann's remark that a couple of glasses of wine were often of great service in clearing the mental vision, and bringing difficult subjects to a solution, as follows: "You know my Divan so well that you will remember that I said myself--

Wenn man getrunken hat,
Weiss man das Rechte,

and that I entirely agree with you. There exist in wine inspiring forces of a very important kind; but all depends upon circumstances and times and places, and what is useful to one does harm to another."[108]

Let us now gather into one the separate traits which we have been constrained to discuss, owing to the wide dissemination of those injurious reports against which Niemetschek has already rightly protested.

We have before us the picture of a cheerful, pleasure-loving man, capable of such exertions of productive power and such intellectual industry as have seldom been surpassed in the history of art, and seeking his necessary recreation in social intercourse and the pleasures of the senses to a degree which was equalled by the majority of his contemporaries in Vienna without exciting any attention at all. He was not by any means a thoughtless, dissipated spendthrift. But a spendthrift he was, if the word be taken to signify one who fails to control his wants and luxuries, so that they may be in proportion to the actual state of his finances. His most dangerous qualities were a good-natured soft-heartedness, and a spontaneous generosity. He gave, as it were, involuntarily, from inner necessity. Rochlitz relates that he not only gave free admissions to the chorus-singers at Leipzig, to which they had no claim, but that he privately pressed a considerable present into the hands of one of the bass singers who had specially pleased him. When a poor old piano-tuner, stammering with embarrassment, begged for a thaler, Mozart pressed a couple of ducats into his hand and

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hurried from the room.[109] When he was in a position to give help, he could not see any one in want without offering relief, even though it entailed future difficulties on himself and his family; repeated experiences made him no more prudent in this respect. That he was often imposed upon there can be no doubt. Whoever came to him at meal-time was his guest, all the more welcome if he could make or understand a joke, and Mozart was happy if only his guests enjoyed their fare. Among them were doubtless, as Sophie Haibl relates, "false friends, secret blood-suckers, and worthless people, who served only to amuse him at table, and intercourse with whom injured his reputation."[110] One of the worst of this set was Albert Stadler, who may serve as an example of the way in which Mozart was sometimes treated. He was an excellent clarinet-player, and a Freemason; he was full of jokes and nonsense, and contrived so to ingratiate himself with Mozart that the latter constantly invited him to his house and composed many things for him. Once, having learnt that Mozart had just received fifty ducats, he represented himself as undone if he could not succeed in borrowing that very sum. Mozart, who wanted the money himself, gave him two valuable repeater watches to put in pawn upon condition that he should bring him the tickets and redeem them in due time; as he did not do this, Mozart gave him fifty ducats, besides the interest, in order not to lose his watches. Stadler kept the money, and allowed the watches to remain at the pawnbroker's. Nowise profiting by this experience, Mozart, on his return from Frankfort, in

1790, commissioned Stadler to redeem from pawn a portion of the silver plate which had been pledged for the expenses of the journey and to renew the agreement for the remainder. In spite of a very strong suspicion that Stadler had purloined this pawn-ticket from Mozart's open cashbox, the latter was not deterred from assisting him in the following year towards a professional tour, both with money and recommendations, in Prague, and from presenting him with

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a concerto (622 K.), composed only a few months before Mozart's death.[111]

No doubt all this shows culpable weakness on Mozart's part--weakness incompatible with his duty to himself and his family. His household burdens were increased by many misfortunes, especially by the repeated and long-continued illnesses of his wife, necessitating an expensive sojourn in Baden for many successive summers. Her delicacy doubtless prevented such personal supervision of the household as was essential to its economical management. She failed also to acquire such an intellectual influence over her husband as to strengthen his capacity for the proper conduct of his affairs, and she had not strength of mind or energy to take the management of the household entirely into her own hands. She felt the discomfort keenly, saw the causes of it, but could not strive against them for any length of time. Without wishing to reproach her, we may say at least that had Constanze been as good a housekeeper as Mozart was a composer, things would have gone well with him.

It must not be supposed that Mozart was blind to the advantages of good household management or wanting in the will to effect it; from time to time he made earnest endeavours after economic reform. In February, 1784, he began an exact catalogue of his compositions, in which he carefully entered every one of his works, until a short time before his death, with suggestions of the theme;[112] at the same time he began to keep an account book of his income and expenditure. André observes as to this account, which unhappily I have not been able to see, that Mozart entered his receipts--which included the profits on some concerts, on lessons to different persons of rank, and on a few of his compositions--on a long piece of paper. His expenditure he noted in a little quarto book, which he afterwards used

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for writing English exercises and translations. His entries, while they lasted, were exact and minute. For instance, on one page we find:--

May 1, 1784. Two lilies of the valley... 1 kreutzer.

May 27, 1784. A starling.........34 kreutzers.

Then comes the following melody--[See Page Image]

with the remark, "Das war schön!" It is easy to discover what so delighted him. On April 12 he had composed his pianoforte concerto in G major (453 K.), and soon after played it in public. The subject of the rondo is:--[See Page Image]

The pleasure he felt at hearing it piped so comically altered induced him to buy the bird. He grew very much attached to his "Vogel Stahrl," as indeed he was to all animals, especially birds, and when it died he erected a gravestone to its memory in his garden, with an epitaph in verse.[113]

The excessive neatness of the account-books leads us to fear that they were not persevered with for any very long time, and indeed it is almost surprising that Mozart should have kept them for a whole year, from March, 1784, to February, 1785. After that he handed them over to his wife, and the entries soon cease.

Certainly Niemetschek is right in saying that "even if the same indulgence be granted to Mozart that we must all wish to see extended to ourselves, he cannot be put forward as an example of carefulness and economy." Whoever, like Mozart, begins his housekeeping with nothing at all, or even with debts, and is dependent upon an uncertain and fluctuating income, has need of the strictest economy and regularity, amounting even to parsimony, if he is to extricate himself from his difficulties or attain to competence; otherwise occasional strokes of good fortune are seldom of use--indeed are sometimes positive hindrances." Regularity and economy were, as we have seen, qualities not in Mozart's nature, and he never acquired them. Their absence sufficiently accounts for his constant financial embarrassments. He atoned for his errors and weakness by poverty and want, by sorrow and care, by shame and humiliation; he was spared none of the punishment which life ruthlessly inflicts on those who do not conform to the laws of her iron necessity. But death has wiped out the stain, and the misrepresentations of envious detractors and petty fault-finders have no power to touch that which is immortal.

FOOTNOTES OF CHAPTER 27

[Footnote 1: Cf. Friedel, Briefe aus Wien (1784), p. 409.]

[Footnote 2: Mozart himself wrote this to his father, who communicates it to Marianne (September 17, 1785).]

[Footnote 3: Kelly, Reminisc., I., p. 225.]

[Footnote 4: A. M. z., I., p. 855.]

[Footnote 5: I cannot undertake to give anything like a comprehensive description of Mozart's wife, although I have received many communications from trustworthy persons who have known her personally. Their knowledge is of her later years only, and their accounts are often inconsistent. This inconsistency arises from the conflict in the widow's mind between pride in the fame of the husband, of whose greatness she was fully aware only after his death, and a painful remembrance of the hardships of their married life. These hardships she was inclined to ascribe solely to his want of capacity for practical affairs, and an injured feeling was often mingled with her unbounded pride in Mozart's artistic achievements and her belief in his love for her. The peculiarities of her second husband, Nissen, a business man, painfully accurate and precise, tended no doubt to intensify the contrast. Nissen's was an honourable, although a commonplace nature, and he had earned Constanze's gratitude by his care for her in her widowed and destitute condition, and by placing her in a good worldly position as his wife; so that it is not surprising that Mozart's memory should have passed into the background, with the exception of his musical fame, which Nissen could not rival. At any rate, we find Constanze continually posing as the patient martyr, suffering from the thoughtlessness of a man of genius, who remained a child to the end of his days. This is unjust to Mozart, but it would be equally unjust to Constanze to make her mainly responsible for the family difficulties.]

[Footnote 6: Jahrb. d. Tonkunst. (1796), p. 43.]

[Footnote 7: Nissen, p. 689.]

[Footnote 8: Shlichtegrolls Nekrolog. Cf. Zelter, Briefw. mit Goethe, VI., p. 61.]

[Footnote 9: Niemetschek, p. 97. Nissen, p. 686.]

[Footnote 10: A. M. Z., I., p. 291. Nissen, p. 687.]

[Footnote 11: This letter was made use of by Nissen. I obtained it from Köchel.]

[Footnote 12: A. M. Z., I., p. 291. Nissen, p. 687.]

[Footnote 13: "On this point I have accepted the verbal testimony of trustworthy Salzburg friends, confirmed by Niemetschek, p. 98 (Nissen, p. 690).]

[Footnote 14: Forster, Sämmtl. Schr., VII., p. 268. The French traveller [K. Risbeck] says a great deal about the dissoluteness of the Viennese. "All the great towns are alike in this respect. The courts are more or less corrupt, and the nobility universally so; those who can do as they like abuse their privileges, and act unworthily. But it is not always fair to consider freedom of manner as a sign of licentiousness, as those who live in small towns are apt to do. If a pretty girl permits a kiss on her hand, or even her lips--if, when she loves a man, she is not ashamed to say so--these are not deadly sins, and the shame rests with those who take advantage of her openness."]

[Footnote 15: From a MS. biographical notice of Hummel, by M. J. Seidel, communicated by Preller.]

[Footnote 16: The length to which the calumny went is shown by Suard (Mél. de Litt., II., p. 339): "J'ai entendu dire qu'il n'avait fait Ja 'Flute Enchantée' que pour plaire ä une femme de théätre dont il était devenu amoureux, et qui avait mis ses faveurs ä ce prix. On ajoute que son triomphe eut des suites bien cruelles, et qu'il en contracta une maladie incurable dont il mourut peu de temps après. Ce fait me parait peu vraisemblable: la 'Flûte Enchantée' n'est pas le dernier de ses opéras, et lorsqu'il l'a composée sa santé était déjä fort altérée."]

[Footnote 17: Salieri was recommended by Gluck as a composer for the Grand-Opéra in Paris, in 1784, when he had himself refused to undertake the composition of "Les Danaides" (Mosel, Salieri, p. 77).]

[Footnote 18: A book of exercises and letters in English was used by Mozart as an account book in 1784 (André, Vorr. zu Mozart's Themat.-Catalog., p. 3).]

[Footnote 19: Hamburg. Litt. u. Krit. Blätt, 1856, No. 72, p. 563.]

[Footnote 20: Kelly, Reminisc., I., p. 277. L. Mozart gives his daughter a long account of the English visitors who were invited to a State concert by the Archbishop, and very well received.]

[Footnote 21: A Viennese correspondent of January 25, 1787, says (Cramer's Musik. Magaz., II., p. 1273): "Mozart left Vienna some weeks ago on a professional tour to Prague, Berlin, and, it is even said, to London. I hope that it will be productive both of pleasure and profit to him." And Leopold Mozart wrote to his daughter (January 12, 1787): "The report that your brother intends going to England is confirmed from Vienna, Prague, and Munich."]

[Footnote 22: Niemetschek, p. 44. Rochlitz's account, founded on information from Mozart's widow (A. M. Z., I., p. 22), is confirmed by Nissen (p. 535).]

[Footnote 23: A. M. Z., I., p. 291.]

[Footnote 24: Rochlitz expressly states that the King repeated this conversation to various persons, among others to Mozart's widow, during her stay in Berlin, in February, 1796.]

[Footnote 25: Mosel, Salieri, p. 132.]

[Footnote 26: The story that after his return from Prague (September, 1791), as Nie-metschek has it (p. 36), or on his death-bed,as it is usually embellished, Mozart received his appointment as actual kapellmeister, with all its emoluments, is evidently unfounded. In the widow's petition for a pension (in the Mozarteum at Salzburg) only "the expected appointment to the post of cathedral kapellmeister" is mentioned, and in a magistrate's order of December 12,1791 (in the collection of Al. Fuchs), "Joh. Georg. Albrechtsberger, imperial court organist, appointed to the post of assistant kapellmeister at the metropolitan church of St. Stephan, as successor to the late Herr Mozart." Hoffman died in 1792, and then Albrechtsberger succeeded him.]

[Footnote 27: Caroline Pichler, Denkwürd, I., p. 180.]

[Footnote 28: K. R[isbeck], Briefe, I., p. 292. G. Forster, Sämmtl. Schr., VII., p. 268. Meyer, L. Schroder, I., p. 360, Schink, Dramaturg. Monate, II., p. 542.]

[Footnote 29: Niemetschek, p. 92. According to a letter of Nissen's to Härtel (November 27, 1799), they were in the possession of Gelinek, and are apparently lost. Journ. d. Lux. u. d. Mod., 1808, II., p. 802.]

[Footnote 30: Prutz, Deutsch. Museum, II., p. 27. Frank was well known as a "great musician." Briefw. Carl Augusts mit Goethe, I., p. 302.]

[Footnote 31: L. Mozart wrote to his daughter from Vienna (March 12, 1785): "He has had a great _fortepiano pedal_ made, which stands under the harpsichord, three spans long, and fearfully heavy."]

[Footnote 32: Allgem. Wiener Mus. Ztg., 1842, p. 489. Seidel, Handschr. Notiz.]

[Footnote 33: Holmes tells the story on trustworthy family authority (p. 258).]

[Footnote 34: Allgem. Wien. Mus. Ztg., 1842, p. 489.]

[Footnote 35: Holmes, p. 259. Cf. Fétis, Curios. Hist, de la Mus., p. 212.]

[Footnote 36: Stadler (Vertheidig. der Echtheit des Req., p. 13) says: "When I turn over these leaves, I never fail to remember the great master, and rejoice in observing his manner of working."]

[Footnote 37: Zelter, Briefw. mit Goethe, V., p. 85. In the Wiener Zeitung, 1796, p. 1038, Jos. Haydenreich advertises for sale at a price of 4 fl. 30 kr., "Ein noch unbekanntes geschriebenes Fundament zur erlernung des Generalbasses von Mozart."]

[Footnote 38: It has been published several times in Vienna by Steiner & Co. with the title of "Kurzgefasste Generalbass-schule von W. A. Mozart,'' and as "Fundament des Generalbasses von W. A. Mozart," by J. G. Siegmeyer (Berlin, 1822).]

[Footnote 39: Holmes, p. 316.]

[Footnote 40: Kelly, Reminisc., I., p. 228.]

[Footnote 41: Nicolai, Reise, IV., p. 552. C. Pichler, Denkw., I., p. 127.]

[Footnote 42: Nicolai (Reise, IV., p. 552) dilates upon the announcement of these great amateur concerts, and especially upon paragraph 6, which runs: "Card-tables will be placed in the ante-rooms, and money for play provided at discretion; the company will also be provided with every kind of refreshment." He asserts that this was not so at the private concerts of true connoisseurs, at which he had been present.]

[Footnote 43: Wien. Ztg., 1782, No. 44. K. R[isbeck], Briefe, I., p. 276. "The entertainments I most enjoyed during the nights of last summer, were the so-called 'lemonade-tents.' Great tents were erected on one of the largest open spaces in the city, and there lemonade was dispensed at night; several hundred seats were occupied by ladies and gentlemen. A band of music was placed at a little distance, and the perfect silence which was maintained by the numerous assembly had an indescribable effect. The charming music, the solemn silence, the confidential mood engendered by the night, all combined to give the scene a peculiar charm" (Jahrb. d. Tenk., 1796, p. 78).]

[Footnote 44: Hormayr, Wien., V., I., pp. 41, 50.]

[Footnote 45: Nicolai, Reise., III., p. 12.]

[Footnote 46: Franz Türke is mentioned later as a distinguished amateur (Jahrb. d. Tonk., 1796, p. 63).]

[Footnote 47: In 1791, Martin, "directeur des concerts d'amateurs," announced his great concerts in the Imperial Augarten in the Prater, and at court, in a somewhat doleful manner (Wien. Ztg., 1791, No. 45 Anh.). They were afterwards continued under the conductorship of the vice-president, Von Keess (Jahr. d. Tonk., 1796, p. 74. A. M. Z., III., p. 46).]

[Footnote 48: Cramer, Magazin d. Musik, I., p. 578: "A concert was given this after-noon in the National Theatre for the benefit of the celebrated Herr Chevalier Mozart, the performance including several pieces of his own composition. The concert was attended by a very numerous audience, and the two new concertos and various fantasias, which Herr Mozart performed on the pianoforte, were received with loud and general applause. Our gracious Emperor, contrary to custom, remained through the whole performance, and joined in the unprecedented applause of the public. The receipts are said to amount to 1,600 florins."]

[Footnote 49: Wien. Ztg., 1784, No. 28, Anh.]

[Footnote 50: Nicolai, Reise, II., p. 636.]