the
paternal pleasure of seeing, hearing, and embracing you. Lead the
life of a good Catholic Christian; love and fear God; pray to him
with devotion and sincerity, and let your conduct be such, that
should I never see you more, the hour of my death may be free from
apprehension. From my heart I bless you."

His reception at Paris was comparatively cold. The Parisians were
scarcely done with the "faction fight" in which the rivalry of Gluck
and Piccini had involved them; but none of the partisans were inclined
to be enthusiastic about the new-comer. His only great admirer, and
his best friend, seems to have been his acute and accomplished
countryman Grimm, who prophesied that monarchs would dispute for the
possession of Mozart. The prediction was fulfilled, but not in
sufficient time to benefit the unhappy subject of their competition.

"Baron Grimm and myself often vent our indignation at the state of
music here, that is to say, between ourselves; but in public it is
always '_bravo! bravissimo!_' and clapping till the fingers burn.
What most displeases me is, that the French gentlemen have only
so far improved their taste as to be able to _endure_ good things;
but as for any perception that their music is bad--Heaven help
them!--and the singing--_oime!_"

Again he writes--

"You advise me to visit a great deal, in order to make new
acquaintances, or to revive the old ones. That is, however,
impossible. The distance is too great, and the ways too miry to go
on foot; the muddy state of Paris being indescribable; and to take
a coach, one may soon drive away four or five livres, and all in
vain, for the people merely pay you compliments, and then it is
over. They ask me to come on this or that day--I play, and then
they say, '_O c'est un prodige, c'est inconcevable, c'est
etonnant_;' and then '_a Dieu_.'"

"All this, however," Mr Holmes observes, "might have been endured,
so far as mere superciliousness and _hauteur_ to the professional
musician were involved, if these people had possessed any real
feeling or love for music; but it was their total want of all
taste, their utter viciousness, that rendered them hateful to
Mozart. He was ready to make any sacrifice for his family, but
longed to escape from the artificial and heartless Parisians.

"If I were in a place," he writes, "where people had ears