My regards to Herr Bullinger; every time that I get a letter from you, usually containing a few lines from him, I feel ashamed, as it reminds me that I have never once written to my best and truest friend, from whom I have received so much kindness and civility.  But I cannot try to excuse myself.  I only beg of him to do so for me as far as possible, and to believe that, as soon as I have a little leisure, I will write to him—­as yet I have had none; for from the moment I know that it is even possible or probable that I may leave a place, I have no longer a single hour I can call my own, and though I have now a glimmer of hope, still I shall not be at rest till I know how things are.  One of the oracle’s sayings must come to pass.  I think it will be the middle one or the last—­I care not which, for at all events it will be something settled.

I no doubt wrote to you that Holzbauer’s grand opera is in German.  If not, I write it now.  The title is “Gunther von Schwarzburg,” but not our worshipful Herr Gunther, barber and councillor at Salzburg!  “Rosamunde” is to be given during the ensuing Carnival, the libretto being a recent composition of Wieland’s, and the music also a new composition of Herr Schweitzer.  Both are to come here.  I have already seen some parts of the opera and tried it over on the piano, but I say nothing about it as yet.  The target you have had painted for me, to be given in my name to the shooting-match, is first-rate, and the verses inimitable. [Footnote:  For cross-bow practice, attended weekly by a circle of his Salzburg friends.  On the target was represented “the melancholy farewell of two persons dissolved in tears, Wolfgang and the ‘Basle.’”] I have now no more to write, except that I wish you all a good night’s rest, and that you may all sleep soundly till this letter comes to wake you.  Adieu!  I embrace from my heart—­cart, my dear sister—­blister, and am your dutiful and attached son,

Wolfgang AMADE Mozart,

Knight of the Golden Spur, Member of the great Verona Academy,
Bologna—­oui, mon ami!

79.

Mannheim, Nov. 26, 1777.

—­Moreover, every one acquainted with Mannheim, even the nobility, advised me to come here.  The reason why we are still in this place is that I have some thoughts of remaining the winter here, and I am only waiting for an answer from the Elector to decide my plans.  The Intendant, Count Savioli, is a very worthy gentleman, and I told him to inform the Elector that, this being such severe weather for travelling, I am willing to remain here to teach the young Count [Carl Theodor’s son].  He promised me to do his best for me, but said that I must have patience till the gala days were over.  All this took place with the consent and at the suggestion of Cannabich.  When I told him that I had spoken to Savioli and what I had said, he replied he really thought it was more likely to be brought about than