thing but that. The very thought of it makes
me tremble with rage. I hate the Archbishop almost to frenzy!'

We must pass over the time of struggle which followed the severance of
Mozart's connection with the Archbishop, when he found himself with
only a single pupil as a visible means of support, but, fortunately,
not without friends, and come to the point when, for the second time,
he fell in love. He was lodging with his old friends the Webers.
Fridolin Weber was dead; Aloysia had married, and was well known as a
professional singer; and Madame Weber, with her two unmarried
daughters, was living, in reduced circumstances, in Vienna. Mozart's
prospects had greatly improved, for his latest opera, 'Entfuehrung aus
dem Serail,' had brought him increased fame, both in Vienna and in
Prague, and he had secured the patronage of many distinguished
personages, in addition to that of the Emperor Joseph. Bachelorhood to
him now seemed insupportable. 'To my mind,' he says in a letter to his
father, 'a bachelor lives only half a life,' and so he had determined
to marry. The object of his choice was Constanze Weber, the third
daughter, and, despite Leopold's remonstrances, Mozart made her his
bride on August 16, 1782.

[Illustration: "_There is the door!_"]

His marriage marked the beginning of a new era of struggle, for
Constanze, though a devoted wife, was incapable of managing a home,
and as their means were uncertain to start with, they were soon
involved in a sea of monetary troubles, from which there seemed to be
no prospect of their extricating themselves. An unpropitious note had
been struck on the very day of the wedding, when it must have appeared
to Mozart that he had committed a crime in robbing the family of one
of its members. 'As soon as we were married,' he wrote to his father,
'my wife and I both began to weep. All present, even the priest, were
touched at seeing us so moved, and wept too.'

With the friends and influence which Mozart's genius had ranged upon
his side it was hoped that a post of importance would by this time
have been found for him in Vienna. The bestowal of a Court appointment
would have relieved him of much of the drudgery of teaching and the
anxiety of tiding over periods when pupils and engagements were
scarce, but the Emperor, despite his sincere interest in all that
concerned the composer, showed a seeming disinclination to make a
proposal. Yet there could be no doubt of the appreciat