Mozart, don’t be so cross; you may say what you please I shall always like you.’  All the people here say that we are to be married, and great surprise is expressed at my choosing such a face.  She told me that when she heard anything of the sort she always laughed at it.  I know, however, from a third person, that she confirms it, adding that we are to travel immediately afterwards.  This did enrage me.  I told her my opinion pretty plainly, and warned her not to take advantage of my good nature.  Now I no longer go there every day, but only every two days, so the report will gradually die away.  She is nothing but an amorous fool.”

Life in Vienna has always been gay enough.  In those days it was far from prudish and Mozart was always of unusual fascination for women.  He loved frivolity and went about much, but he seems by no means to have deserved the reputation given him by the gossip of that time and this, that he was a confirmed rake.  It is impossible for any one acquainted with Mozart’s career and letters to accuse him of studious hypocrisy, and this accusation is necessary to support the theory that he was anything but a serious-minded toiler, and for his time and surroundings a well-behaved and conscientious man.

He finally left the home of the Webers and had previously written his father, as we have seen, that he was not at all in love with Constanze.  But he was either in love with her without knowing it, or he soon tumbled headlong in love with her; for, soon after leaving the house, he plighted his troth with her.

He was some time, however, in mustering courage enough to break the news to his father.  To a letter dated December 5, 1781, he added a vague hint of new ideas.  This was enough to provoke his father’s curiosity.  It was satisfied in Mozart’s long reply of December 15th: 

“My very dearest father, you demand an explanation of the words in the closing sentence of my last letter.  Oh! how gladly long ago would I have opened my heart to you; but I was deterred, by the reproaches I dreaded, from even thinking of such a thing at so unseasonable a time, although merely thinking can never be unseasonable.  My endeavours are directed at present to securing a small but certain income, which, together with what chance may put in my way, may enable me to live—­and to marry!  You are alarmed at this idea; but I entreat you, my dearest, kindest father, to listen to me.  I have been obliged to disclose to you my purpose; you must therefore allow me to disclose to you my reasons also, and very well-grounded reasons they are.

“My feelings are strong, but I cannot live as many other young men do.  In the first place, I have too great a sense of religion, too much love for my neighbour to do so, and too high a feeling of honour to deceive any innocent girl.  My disposition has always inclined me more to domestic life than to excitement; I never have from my youth upward been in the habit of taking any charge of my linen or clothes, etc., and I think nothing is more desirable for me than a wife.  I assure you I am forced to spend a good deal owing to the want of proper care of what I possess.  I am quite convinced that I should be far better off with a wife (and the same income I now have), for how many other superfluous expenses would it save!  An unmarried man, in my opinion, enjoys only half of life.