no great misfortune to a single man.  But anything in the world to please you.  It would be less trying to me if I could only occasionally escape from time to time, just to draw my breath.  You know how difficult it was to get away on this occasion; and without some very urgent cause, there would not be the faintest hope of such a thing.  It is enough to make one weep to think of it, so I say no more.  Adieu!  Come soon to see me at Munich and to hear my opera, and then tell me whether I have not a right to feel sad when I think of Salzburg.  Adieu!

135.

Munich, Dec. 19, 1780.

This last rehearsal has been as successful as the first, and satisfactorily proved to the orchestra and all those who heard it, their mistake in thinking that the second act could not possibly excel the first in expression and novelty.  Next Saturday both acts are again to be rehearsed, but in a spacious apartment in the palace, which I have long wished, as the room at Count Seeau’s is far too small.  The Elector is to be in an adjoining room (incognito) to hear the music.  “It must be a life-and-death rehearsal,” said Cannabich to me.  At the last one he was bathed in perspiration.

Cannabich, whose name-day this is, has just left me, reproaching me for discontinuing this letter in his presence.  As to Madame Duschek, the thing is impossible at present, but I will do what I can with pleasure after my opera is given.  I beg you will write to her and say, with my compliments, that next time she comes to Salzburg we can square accounts.  It would delight me if I could get a couple of cavaliers like old Czernin,—­this would be a little yearly help; but certainly not for less than 100 florins a year, in which case it might be any style of music they pleased.  I trust that you are now quite recovered; indeed, after the friction performed by a Barisani Theres, you cannot be otherwise.  You have no doubt seen by my letters that I am well and happy.  Who would not feel happy to have completed such a great and laborious work—­and completed it, too, with honor and renown?  Three arias alone are wanting—­the last chorus in the third act, and the overture and ballet; and then—­Adieu partie!

One more indispensable remark, and I have done.  The scene between father and son in the first act, and the first scene in the second act between Idomenco and Arbace, are both too long, and sure to weary the audience, particularly as in the first the actors are both bad, and in the second one of them is also very inferior; besides, the whole details are only a narrative of what the spectators have already seen with their own eyes.  The scenes will be printed just as they are.  I only wish the Abbate would point out to me how not only to curtail them, but very considerably to curtail them; otherwise I must do it myself, for the scenes cannot remain as they are—­I mean, so far as the music is concerned.  I have just got your letter, which, being begun by my sister, is without a date.  A thousand compliments to Thresel—­ my future upper and under nursery-maid to be.  I can easily believe that Katherl would gladly come to Munich, if (independent of the journey) you would allow her to take my place at meals.  Eh! bien.  I can contrive it, for she can occupy the same room with my sister.