that it should be returned first.  They all, and even the Prelate, plagued me to give them a litany, De venerabili.  I said I had not got it with me.  I really was by no means sure; so I searched, but did not find it.  They gave me no peace, evidently thinking that I only wished to evade their request; so I said, “I really have not the litany with me; it is at Salzburg.  Write to my father; it is his affair.  If he chooses to give it to you, well and good; if not, I have nothing to do with it.”  A letter from the Deacon to you will therefore probably soon make its appearance.  Do just as you please, but if you do send him one, let it be the last in E flat; they have voices enough for anything, and a great many people will be assembled at that time; they even write for them to come from a distance, for it is their greatest festival.  Adieu!

78.

Mannheim, Nov. 22, 1777.

The first piece of information that I have to give you is, that my truthful letter to Herr Herzog in Augsburg, puncto Schmalzii, has had a capital effect.  He wrote me a very polite letter in return, expressing his annoyance that I should have been received so uncourteously by detto Schmalz [melted butter]; so he herewith sent me a sealed letter to detto Herr Milk, with a bill of exchange for 150 florins on detto Herr Cheese.  You must know that, though I only saw Herr Herzog once, I could not resist asking him to send me a draft on Herr Schmalz, or to Herrn Butter, Milk, and Cheese, or whom he would—­a ca!  This joke has succeeded; it is no good making a poor mouth!

We received this forenoon (the 21st) your letter of the 17th.  I was not at home, but at Cannabich’s, where Wendling was rehearsing a concerto for which I have written the orchestral accompaniments.  To-day at six o’clock the gala concert took place.  I had the pleasure of hearing Herr Franzl (who married a sister of Madame Cannabich’s) play a concerto on the violin; he pleased me very much.  You know that I am no lover of mere difficulties.  He plays difficult music, but it does not appear to be so; indeed, it seems as if one could easily do the same, and this is real talent.  He has a very fine round tone, not a note wanting, and everything distinct and well accentuated.  He has also a beautiful staccato in bowing, both up and down, and I never heard such a double shake as his.  In short, though in my opinion no wizard, he is a very solid violin-player.—­I do wish I could conquer my confounded habit of writing crooked.

I am sorry I was not at Salzburg when that unhappy occurrence took place about Madame Adlgasserin, so that I might have comforted her; and that I would have done—­particularly being so handsome a woman. [Footnote:  Adlgasser was the organist of the cathedral.  His wife was thought very stupid.  See the letter of August 26, 1781.] I know already all that you write to me about Mannheim, but I never wish to say anything prematurely; all in good time.  Perhaps in my next letter I may tell you of something very good in your eyes, but only good in mine; or something you will think very bad, but I tolerable; possibly, too, something only tolerable for you, but very good, precious, and delightful for me!  This sounds rather oracular, does it not?  It is ambiguous, but still may be divined.