Her instructor is Valesi; and her style of singing shows that her master knows how to sing as well as how to teach.  When she sustains her voice for a couple of bars, I am quite surprised at the beauty of her crescendo and decrescendo.  She as yet takes her shakes slowly, and this I highly approve of, for it will be all the more pure and clear if she ever wishes to take it quicker; besides, it is easier when quick.  She is a great favorite with the people here, and with me.

Mamma was in the pit; she went as early as half-past four o’clock to get a place.  I, however, did not go till half-past six o’clock, for I can go to any box I please, being pretty well known.  I was in the Brancas’ box; I looked at Keiserin with my opera-glass, and at times she drew tears from my eyes.  I often called out bravo, bravissimo, for I always remembered that it was only her third appearance.  The piece was Das Fischermadchen, a very good translation of Piccini’s opera, with his music.  As yet they have no original pieces, but are now anxious soon to give a German opera seria, and a strong wish prevails that I should compose it.  The aforesaid Professor Huber is one of those who wish this.  I shall now go to bed, for I can sit up no longer.  It is just ten o’clock.  Baron Rumling lately paid me the following compliment:  “The theatre is my delight—­good actors and actresses, good singers, and a clever composer, such as yourself.”  This is indeed only talk, and words are not of much value, but he never before spoke to me in this way.

I write this on the 3d of October.  To-morrow the court departs, and does not return till the 20th.  If it had remained here, I would have taken the step I intended, and stayed on here for a time; but as it is, I hope to resume my journey with mamma next Tuesday.  But meanwhile the project of the associated friends, which I lately wrote to you about, may be realized, so that when we no longer care to travel we shall have a resource to fall back upon.  Herr von Krimmel was to-day with the Bishop of Chiemsee, with whom he has a good deal to do on the subject of salt.  He is a strange man; here he is called “your Grace,”—­that is, the lackeys do so.  Having a great desire that I should remain here, he spoke very zealously to the Prince in my favor.  He said to me, “Only let me alone; I will speak to the Prince, and I have a right to do so, for I have done many things to oblige him.”  The Prince promised him that I should positively be appointed, but the affair cannot be so quickly settled.  On the return of the court he is to speak to the Elector with all possible earnestness and zeal.  At eight o’clock this morning I called on Count Seeau.  I was very brief, and merely said, “I have only come, your Excellency, to explain my case clearly.  I have been told that I ought to go to Italy, which is casting a reproach on me.  I was sixteen months in Italy, I have written three operas, and all this is notorious enough.