dearest friend, and the preserver of my life. He is happy!--but
I--we, and all who thoroughly knew him, cannot again be so--till
we have the felicity to meet him in a better world, never again to
separate."

In 1789, Mozart visited Prussia, where he was well received by every
one, and seems to have been happy. We may here insert part of a
well-known letter, written about this time, to an amateur baron, which
gives a curious picture of Mozart's character and habits, as well as
of the mixed tone of good humour and good sense with which he seems to
have both written and conversed. The baron had sent him some tolerable
music, and some better wine.

"TO THE BARON V----.

"Herewith I return you, my good baron, your scores; and if you
perceive that in my hand there are more _nota benes_ than notes,
you will find from the sequel of this letter how that has
happened. Your symphony has pleased me, on account of its ideas,
more than the other pieces, and yet I think that it will produce
the least effect. It is too much crowded, and to hear it partially
or piecemeal (_stueckweise_) would be, by your permission, like
beholding an ant-hill (_Ameisen haufen_). I mean to say, that it is
as if Eppes, the devil, were in it.

"You must not snap your fingers at me, my dearest friend, for I
would not for all the world have spoken out so candidly if I could
have supposed that it would give you offence. Nor need you wonder
at this; for it is so with all composers who, without having from
their infancy, as it were, been trained by the whip and the curses
(_Donnerwetter_) of the maestro, pretend to do every thing with
natural talent alone. Some compose fairly enough, but with other
people's ideas, not possessing any themselves; others, who have
ideas of their own, do not understand how to treat and master
them. This last is your case. Only do not be angry, pray! for St
Cecilia's sake, not angry that I break out so abruptly. But your
song has a beautiful cantabile, and your dear _Fraenzl_ ought to
sing it very often to you, which I should like as much to see as
to hear. The minuet in the quartet is also pleasing enough,
particularly from the place I have marked. The _coda_, however,
may well clatter or tinkle, but it will never produce _music_;
_sapienti sat_, and also to the _nihil sapienti_, by whom I mean
myself. I