In 1773, at the age of seventeen, Austrian-born composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was serving as a court musician in Salzburg under Archbishop Hieronymus Colloredo. While the position offered him financial stability, over time Mozart became increasingly dissatisfied with his low salary and the archbishop’s restrictions on his creative freedom. He eventually left the Salzburg court in 1777, only to return two years later following an unsuccessful search for employment in cities such as Paris and Munich. Re-employed by the archbishop, Mozart accepted a new position —this time as court organist and Konzertmeister— but his dissatisfaction with the Salzburg court and Colloredo remained unchanged.
Under the archbishop's employment, Mozart composed many of his early works —including symphonies, operas, piano concertos, and chamber works— and by 1781 he was already a well-known composer in Europe. In March of that year, he joined Colloredo in Vienna, and it was there that tensions between the two finally came to a head. Longing for artistic freedom and personal independence, Mozart asked to be released from his job, but the archbishop refused to let him go. After repeated requests for his release, the composer was eventually dismissed in June 1781, reportedly with a literal "kick in the arse" by one of the court officials. Mozart never returned to Salzburg but remained in Vienna to work as a freelance composer. Until his untimely death in 1791 at the age of 35, he continued to live and work in the Austrian capital, where he composed some of his most famous works, including the operas The Marriage of Figaro (1786) and Don Giovanni (1787), and his Symphonies No. 40 and No. 41 (both 1788).
Vienna, May 12, 1781.
In the letter I sent by post, I wrote as if we were in the presence of the Archbishop, but now I am going to talk to you, dearest father, quite confidentially. Let us say nothing whatever of all the injustice with which the Archbishop has treated me from the very beginning of his reign to the present moment, of his incessant abuse, of all the impertinences and insults which he lavished on me to my face, nor of the undeniable right I have to leave him, for it cannot be denied. But I wish to speak of what would have induced me to leave him, even without any cause of offence. I have here the best and most useful acquaintances in the world; I am beloved and esteemed by the highest families; I am treated with every possible consideration, and well paid into the bargain; and am I to pine away my life in Salzburg for the sake of 400 florins, to linger on without remuneration or encouragement, and unable to benefit you, which I shall certainly have it in my power to do here? What would be the result? Ever and always the same—I must either fret myself to death, or again go away. I need say no more, for you know it yourself. But this I must tell you, that every one in Vienna has heard the story, and all the nobility take my part, and say that I ought no longer to allow myself to be defrauded in this manner. Dearest father, no doubt they will try to beguile you by many kind words, but these people are snakes and vipers; all base souls are so disgustingly proud, and yet always ready to crawl. How odious! The two valets know the whole obnoxious affair, and Schlauka in particular said to some one, 'As for me, I really cannot say that I think Mozart wrong—in fact, I think he is quite right. Only suppose the Archbishop had treated me in such a way! He spoke to him as if he had been some miserable beggar. I heard it all—infamous!’ The Archbishop acknowledges his injustice, but has he not had frequent cause to do so? and has he ever behaved better in consequence? Never! So let us have done with it. If I had not been afraid of perhaps injuring you, things should long since have been on a very different footing; but, in fact, what can he do to you?—nothing! When you know that all is going well with me, you can easily dispense with the Archbishop’s favour. He cannot deprive you of your salary; besides, you always do your duty. I pledge myself to succeed, or I never would have taken this step, although I must confess to you that after such an insult I would have quitted his service, even if forced to beg my bread. For who would submit to be bullied, more especially when you can do far better? In the meantime, if you are afraid, pretend to be displeased with me, scold me well in your letters, and we two alone will know how the matter really stands; but do not allow yourself to be misled by flattery—be on your guard. By the next opportunity I shall send you the portrait, the ribbons, and the lawn. Adieu!
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