I have received your three letters.  I shall only reply to the last, being the most important.  When I read it, (Heina was with me and sends you his regards,) I trembled with joy, for I fancied myself already in your arms.  True it is (and this you will yourself confess) that no great stroke of good fortune awaits me; still, when I think of once more embracing you and my dear sister, I care for no other advantage.  This is indeed the only excuse I can make to the people here, who are vociferous that I should remain in Paris; but my reply invariably is, “What would you have?  I am content, and that is everything; I have now a place I can call my home, and where I can live in peace and quiet with my excellent father and beloved sister.  I can do what I choose when not on duty.  I shall be my own master, and have a certain competency; I may leave when I like, and travel every second year.  What can I wish for more?” The only thing that disgusts me with Salzburg, and I tell you of it just as I feel it, is the impossibility of having any satisfactory intercourse with the people, and that musicians are not in good repute there, and—­that the Archbishop places no faith in the experience of intelligent persons who have seen the world.  For I assure you that people who do not travel (especially artists and scientific men) are but poor creatures.  And I at once say that if the Archbishop is not prepared to allow me to travel every second year, I cannot possibly accept the engagement.  A man of moderate talent will never rise above mediocrity, whether he travels or not, but a man of superior talents (which, without being unthankful to Providence, I cannot deny that I possess) deteriorates if he always remains in the same place.  If the Archbishop would only place confidence in me, I could soon make his music celebrated; of this there can be no doubt.  I also maintain that my journey has not been unprofitable to me—­I mean, with regard to composition, for as to the piano, I play it as well as I ever shall.  One thing more I must settle about Salzburg, that I am not to take up the violin as I formerly did.  I will no longer conduct with the violin; I intend to conduct, and also accompany airs, with the piano.  It would have been a good thing to have got a written agreement about the situation of Capellmeister, for otherwise I may have the honor to discharge a double duty, and be paid only for one, and at last be superseded by some stranger.  My dear father, I must decidedly say that I really could not make up my mind to take this step were it not for the pleasure of seeing you both again; I wish also to get away from Paris, which I detest, though my affairs here begin to improve, and I don’t doubt that if I could bring myself to endure this place for a few years, I could not fail to succeed.  I am now pretty well known—­that is, the people all know me, even if I don’t know them.  I acquired considerable fame by my two symphonies; and (having heard that I was about