I write from the house of M. Becke [flute-player; see No. 60].  I arrived here safely, God be praised! on the 25th, but have been unable to write to you till now.  I reserve everything till our glad, joyous meeting, when I can once more have the happiness of conversing with you, for to-day I can only weep.  I have far too sensitive a heart.  In the mean time, I must tell you that the day before I left Kaisersheim I received the sonatas; so I shall be able to present them myself to the Electress.  I only delay leaving this till the opera [Footnote:  Schweitzer’s “Alceste.”  (See No. 120.)] is given, when I intend immediately to leave Munich, unless I were to find that it would be very beneficial and useful to me to remain here for some time longer.  In which case I feel convinced, quite convinced, that you would not only be satisfied I should do so, but would yourself advise it.  I naturally write very badly, for I never learned to write; still, in my whole life I never wrote worse than this very day, for I really am unfit for anything—­my heart is too full of tears.  I hope you will soon write to me and comfort me.  Address to me, Poste Restante, and then I can fetch the letter myself.  I am staying with the Webers.  I think, after all, it would be better, far better, to enclose your letter to me to our friend Becke.

I intend (I mention it to you in the strictest secrecy) to write a mass here; all my best friends advise my doing so.  I cannot tell you what friends Cannabich and Raaff have been to me.  Now farewell, my kindest and most beloved father!  Write to me soon.

A happy new-year!  More I cannot bring myself to write to-day.  This letter is scrawled hurriedly, quite unlike the others, and betrays the most violent agitation of mind.  During the whole journey there was nothing to which Mozart looked forward with such joy as once more seeing his beloved Madlle.  Weber in Munich.  He had even destined “a great part” for the Basle (his cousin) in the affair; but he was now to learn that Aloysia had been faithless to him.  Nissen relates:  “Mozart, being in mourning for his mother, appeared dressed, according to the French custom, in a red coat with black buttons; but soon discovered that Aloysia’s feelings towards him had undergone a change.  She seemed scarcely to recognize one for whose sake she had once shed so many tears.  On which Mozart quickly seated himself at the piano and sang, “Ich lass das Madel gern das mich nicht will,” ["I gladly give up the girl who slights me.”] His father, moreover, was displeased in the highest degree by Wolfgang’s protracted absence, fearing that the Archbishop might recall his appointment; so Wolfgang became very uneasy lest he should not meet with a kind reception from his father on his return home.”

123.

Munich, Dec. 31, 1778.