am not very expert in writing on such subjects; I rather
show at once how it ought to be done.

"You cannot imagine with what joy I read your letter; only you
ought not to have praised me so much. We may get accustomed to the
hearing of such things, but to read them is not quite so well. You
good people make too much of me; I do not deserve it, nor my
compositions either. And what shall I say to your present, my
dearest baron, that came like a star in a dark night, or like a
flower in winter, or like a cordial in sickness? God knows how I
am obliged, at times, to toil and labour to gain a wretched
livelihood, and Staenerl, (Constance,) too, must get something.

"To him who has told you that I am growing idle, I request you
sincerely (and a baron may well do such a thing) to give him a
good box on the ear. How gladly would I work and work, if it were
only left me to write always such music as I please, and as I can
write; such, I mean to say, as I myself set some value upon. Thus
I composed three weeks ago an orchestral symphony, and by
to-morrow's post I write again to Hoffmeister (the music-seller)
to offer him three pianoforte quatuors, supposing that he is able
to pay. Oh heavens! were I a wealthy man, I would say, 'Mozart,
compose what you please, and as well as you can; but till you
offer me something finished, you shall not get a single kreutzer.
I'll buy of you every MS., and you shall not be obliged to go
about and offer it for sale like a hawker.' Good God! how sad all
this makes me, and then again how angry and savage, and it is in
such a state of mind that I do things which ought not to be done.
You see, my dear good friend, so it is, and not as stupid or vile
wretches (_lumpen_) may have told you. Let this, however, go _a
cassa del diavolo_.

"I now come to the most difficult part of your letter, which I
would willingly pass over in silence, for here my pen denies me
its service. Still I will try, even at the risk of being well
laughed at. You say, you should like to know my way of composing,
and what method I follow in writing works of some extent. I can
really say no more on this subject than the following; for I
myself know no more about it, and cannot account for it. When I
am, as it were, completely myself, entirely alone, and of good
cheer--say, travelli