His reception was a good one. He had indeed, as was the custom of the time, to sit at table with cooks and _valets de chambre_, but these he kept at a proper distance by “great gravity” and silence. Yet even now we hear that the archbishop was only giving himself airs with his attendants; for when an opportunity presented itself for Mozart to show his powers, in other noble houses, the archbishop refused him permission to do so; and still, it was only in such houses, that he could expect to meet the Emperor Joseph--a circumstance on which everything now depended. Rather did this domineering ecclesiastic do all in his power to make Mozart feel his dependence more keenly. The father did all he could to appease him, but Wolfgang felt that the archbishop used him only to tickle his own ambition; that, in all other respects, that worthy served only to hide his light. Besides he had to stand about the room like a servant. Yet Mozart tells us how, at a performance at prince Galizin’s, he had left the other musicians entirely, and how he had gone directly up to the host in the music room, and remained with him. Nothing was paid him for his compositions for the archbishop’s _soirées_. Mozart, indeed, helped to lend _éclat_ to a concert for the widows of deceased musicians in the Haydn Society, because “all the nobility of Vienna had tormented the archbishop to permit him to do so.” But his grace would not allow him to give a concert for his own benefit, spite of the fact that he had been received so well. The hardest blow of all to our artist was the news that he would have to go back to Salzburg with the rest. He at first paid no attention to intimations of this nature, for he wanted to give a concert before he left. He had, besides, a prospect of a position in the imperial city itself. But his father at home would agree to nothing. Mozart now writes “in natural German, because all the world should know it,” that the archbishop owed it entirely to his father that he did not lose him yesterday, for all time. He had been annoyed altogether too much at the concert yesterday. After a little, dissension broke out in earnest. “I am out of myself. My patience has been tried so long that it is at an end.” The archbishop had, even before this, called him “a low fellow,” and told him to go his way. Mozart bore it for his father’s sake. Then he was ordered suddenly to leave the house, and he went to old Madame Weber’s, and had to live at his own expense. He, therefore, did not want to go until this outlay at least was made up for.