74.

Mannheim, Nov. 13, 1777.

We received your last two letters, and now I must answer them in detail.  Your letter desiring me to inquire about Becke’s parents [in Wallerstein, No. 68] I did not get till I had gone to Mannheim, so too late to comply with your wish; but it never would have occurred to me to do so, for, in truth, I care very little about him.  Would you like to know how I was received by him?  Well and civilly; that is, he asked where I was going.  I said, most probably to Paris.  He then gave me a vast deal of advice, saying he had recently been there, and adding, “You will make a great deal by giving lessons, for the piano is highly prized in Paris.”  He also arranged that I should dine at the officers’ table, and promised to put me in the way of speaking to the Prince.  He regretted very much having at that moment a sore throat, (which was indeed quite true,) so that he could not go out with me himself to procure me some amusement.  He was also sorry that he could have no music in honor of me, because most of the musical people had gone that very day on some pedestrian excursion to—­Heaven knows where!  At his request I tried his piano, which is very good.  He often said Bravo!  I extemporized, and also played the sonatas in B and D. In short, he was very polite, and I was also polite, but grave.  We conversed on a variety of topics—­among others, about Vienna, and more particularly that the Emperor [Joseph ii.] was no great lover of music.  He said, “It is true he has some knowledge of composition, but of nothing else.  I can still recall (and he rubbed his forehead) that when I was to play before him I had no idea what to play; so I began with some fugues and trifles of that kind, which in my own mind I only laughed at.”  I could scarcely resist saying, “I can quite fancy your laughing, but scarcely so loud as I must have done had I heard you!” He further said (what is the fact) that the music in the Emperor’s private apartments is enough to frighten the crows.  I replied, that whenever I heard such music, if I did not quickly leave the room it gave me a headache.  “Oh! no; it has no such effect on me; bad music does not affect my nerves, but fine music never fails to give me a headache.”  I thought to myself again, such a shallow head as yours is sure to suffer when listening to what is beyond its comprehension.

Now for some of our news here.  I was desired to go yesterday with Cannabich to the Intendant, Count Savioli, to receive my present.  It was just what I had anticipated—­a handsome gold watch.  Ten Carolins would have pleased me better just now, though the watch and chain, with its appendages, are valued at twenty Carolins.  Money is what is most needed on a journey; and, by your leave, I have now five watches.  Indeed, I have serious thoughts of having a second watch-pocket made, and, when I visit a grandee, to wear two watches, (which is indeed the fashion here,) that no one may ever again think