“I feel that it is a true proof of friendship on your part to do me the honor to invite me to live in your house; but I regret that unfortunately I cannot accept your most kind proposal.  I am sure you will not take it amiss when I say that I am unwilling to allow my mother to leave me without sufficient cause; and I certainly know no reason why mamma should live in one part of the town and I in another.  When I go to Paris, her not going with me would be a considerable pecuniary advantage to me, but here for a couple of months a few gulden more or less do not signify.”

By this speech my wish was entirely fulfilled,—­that is, that our board and lodging do not at all events make us poorer.  I must go up-stairs to supper, for we have now chatted till half-past ten o’clock.  I lately went with my scholar, the Dutch officer, M. de la Pottrie, into the Reformed church, where I played for an hour and a half on the organ.  It came right from my heart too.  We—­ that is, the Cannabichs, Wendlings, Serrariuses, and Mozarts—­are going to the Lutheran Church, where I shall amuse myself gloriously on the organ.  I tried its tone at the same rehearsal that I wrote to you about, but played very little, only a prelude and a fugue.

I have made acquaintance with Herr Wieland.  He does not, however, know me as I know him, for he has heard nothing of me as yet.  I had not at all imagined him to be what I find him.  He speaks in rather a constrained way, and has a childish voice, his eyes very watery, and a certain pedantic uncouthness, and yet at times provokingly condescending.  I am not, however, surprised that he should choose to behave in this way at Mannheim, though no doubt very differently at Weimar and elsewhere, for here he is stared at as if he had fallen from the skies.  People seem to be so ceremonious in his presence, no one speaks, all are as still as possible, striving to catch every word he utters.  It is unlucky that they are kept so long in expectation, for he has some impediment in his speech which causes him to speak very slowly, and he cannot say six words without pausing.  Otherwise he is, as we all know, a man of excellent parts.  His face is downright ugly and seamed with the small-pox, and he has a long nose.  His height is rather beyond that of papa.

You need have no misgivings as to the Dutchman’s 200 florins.  I must now conclude, as I should like to compose for a little time.  One thing more:  I suppose I had better not write to Prince Zeill at present.  The reason you no doubt already know, (Munich being nearer to Salzburg than to Mannheim,) that the Elector is at the point of death from small-pox.  This is certain, so there will be a struggle there.  Farewell!  As for mamma’s journey home, I think it could be managed best during Lent, by her joining some merchants.  This is only my own idea; but what I do feel quite sure of is, that whatever you think right will be best, for you are not only the Herr Hofcapellmeister, but the most rational of all rational beings.  If you know such a person as papa, tell him I kiss his hands 1000 times, and embrace my sister from my heart, and in spite of all this scribbling I am your dutiful son and affectionate brother.