“’I bind myself to marry Madlle.  Constanze Weber in the course of three years, and if it should so happen, which I consider impossible, that I change my mind, she shall be entitled to draw on me every year for 300 florins.’

“Nothing in the world could be easier than to write this, for I knew that the payment of 300 florins never would be exacted, because I could never forsake her; and if unhappily I altered my views, I would only be too glad to get rid of her by paying the 300 florins; and Constanze, as I knew her, would be too proud to let herself be sold in this way.

“But what did the angelic girl do when her guardian was gone?  She desired her mother to give her the written paper, saying to me, ’Dear Mozart, I require no written contract from you.  I rely on your promise.’  She tore up the paper.  This trait endeared Constanze still more to me.”

The correspondence between father and son waxed fast and furious.  Mozart does not attempt to defend Madame Weber or the guardian, but he will not have a word said against the devotion and honour of his Constanze.  Jealous perhaps of the activity of the prospective father-in-law, Madame Weber now began to go into training for a traditional rendition of the role of mother-in-law.  She made the life of her daughter and of Mozart as miserable as possible, and fixed in them the determination that, whatever happened, they would not live with her after they were married.  Mozart and his sweetheart made a determined combination to win the affection of Mozart’s sister, and Constanze sent to Nannerl many a little present, apologising because she was too poor to send anything worth sending.  Finally she was bold enough to enclose a letter to Nannerl.  The composition of such a letter under such circumstances is, at best, no easy matter, and I cannot help thinking that Constanze has evolved a little model: 

“MY DEAR AND VALUED FRIEND:—­I never should have been so bold as to yield to my wish and longing to write to you direct, if your brother had not assured me that you would not take amiss this step on my part.  I do so from my earnest desire to make acquaintance, by writing at least, with a person who, though as yet unknown to me, bears the name of Mozart, a name so precious to me.  May I venture to say that, though I have not had the pleasure of seeing you, I already love and esteem you as the sister of so excellent a brother?  I therefore presume to ask you for your friendship.  Without undue pride I think I may say that I partly deserve it, and shall wholly strive to do so.  I venture to offer you mine, which, indeed, has long been yours in my secret heart.  I trust I may do so, and in this hope I remain your faithful friend, CONSTANZE WEBER.

“My compliments to your papa.”

With so much quarrelling going on around them and concerning them, it is small wonder that the two lovers were finally nagged into the condition of such nervousness that they fell to quarrelling with each other.  One feud adds spice to the very first of these letters to Constanze, which she so carefully guarded,—­Aloysia Weber seems never to have preserved any of Mozart’s correspondence.  It throws also a curious light on the social diversions of Vienna society at that time.