72.

Mannheim, Nov. 5, 1777.

My dear Coz—­Buzz,—­

I have safely received your precious epistle—­thistle, and from it I perceive—­achieve, that my aunt—­gaunt, and you—­shoe, are quite well—­bell.  I have to-day a letter—­setter, from my papa—­ ah-ha, safe in my hands—­sands.  I hope you also got—­trot, my Mannheim letter—­setter.  Now for a little sense—­pence.  The prelate’s seizure—­leisure, grieves me much—­touch, but he will, I hope, get well—­sell.  You write—­blight, you will keep—­cheap, your promise to write to me—­he-he, to Augsburg soon—­spoon.  Well, I shall be very glad—­mad.  You further write, indeed you declare, you pretend, you hint, you vow, you explain, you distinctly say, you long, you wish, you desire, you choose, command, and point out, you let me know and inform me that I must send you my portrait soon—­moon.  Eh, bien! you shall have it before long—­song.  Now I wish you good night—­tight.

The 5th.—­Yesterday I conversed with the illustrious Electress; and to-morrow, the 6th, I am to play in the gala concert, and afterwards, by desire of the Princess, in their private apartments.  Now for something rational!  I beg of you—­why not?—­I beg of you, my very dear cousin—­why not?—­when you write to Madame Tavernier in Munich, to convey a message from me to the two Demoiselles Freysinger—­why not? odd enough! but why not?—­ and I humbly ask pardon of Madlle.  Josepha—­I mean the youngest, and pray why not? why should I not ask her pardon? strange! but I don’t know why I should not, so I do ask her pardon very humbly—­ for not having yet sent the sonata I promised her, but I mean to do so as soon as possible.  Why not?  I don’t know why not.  I can now write no more—­which makes my heart sore.  To all my kind friends much love—­dove.  Addio!  Your old young, till death—­ breath,

Wolfgang AMADE Rosencranz.

Miennham, eht ht5 rebotoc, 7771.

73.

Mannheim, Nov. 8, 1777.

This forenoon, at Herr Cannabich’s, I wrote the Rondo of the sonata for his daughter; so they would not let me leave them all day.  The Elector and the Electress, and the whole court, are very much pleased with me.  Both times I played at the concert, the Elector and she stood close beside me at the piano.  After the music was at an end, Cannabich managed that I should be noticed by the court.  I kissed the Elector’s hand, who said, “I think it is now fifteen years since you were here?” “Yes, your Highness, it is fifteen years since I had that honor.”  “You play inimitably.”  The Princess, when I kissed her hand, said, “Monsieur, je vous assure, on ne peut pas jouer mieux.”