Wolfgang wrote some letters home, when he reached the first station. In one of them we read: “We live like princes. There is nothing wanting to complete our happiness but papa. But, please God, all will be well with us.”... “I hope that papa will be cheerful and as well satisfied as I am. I can put up very well with my lot. I am a second papa. I look after everything. I have undertaken to pay the postillion, too, for I can talk to the fellows better than mamma can. Papa should take care of his health, and remember that the mufti J. C. [Jerome Colloredo] is a mean fellow, but that God is compassionate, merciful and kind.” No sooner, however, had they reached their first stopping-place than things began to wear a different aspect. Mozart received, indeed, a warm reception. There was no lack of admiration for, or of recognition of, his genius. But he met with no success. His receipts were small, and employment hard to find. The innkeeper, Albert, of the sign of the “Black Eagle” (the hotel Detzer of the present), received them. Albert was known as the “learned host,” and took no small interest in art. Mozart first called on the manager of the theatre, count Seeau. He thought that if he had only one more opera, all would be well with him. He next visited the bishop of Chiemsee, to whom he owed it that he had the opportunity to compose the _Verstellte Gaertnerin_. Everybody knew of his arrival, and advised him to go direct to the elector, who was a patron of the fine arts, and esteemed Mozart himself very highly. But many days did not pass before Wolfgang discovered that the bishop had had a private conversation at table, in Nymphenburg, from which he gathered that he could accomplish very little in Munich. The bishop said: “It is too soon yet. He must go; he must take a trip to Italy and become famous. I refuse him nothing; but it is too soon yet.” The father was right; the want of good will hides itself too frequently behind the mask of “youth and too little experience.” And yet, we must ask, who was so much more celebrated than this young _Cavaliere filarmonico_? The electoress, too, shrugged her shoulders, but promised to do her best. Mozart, however, insisted on going to Nymphenburg. The elector wanted to bear mass just before going to hunt. Mozart thus dramatizes the scene in one of his letters: “With your electoral highness’s permission, I would fain most humbly cast myself at your highness’s feet and offer my services to your highness.” “Well, have you left Salzburg for good?” “Yes, for good, your electoral highness.” “But why for good? Have you quarreled?” “Well, please your electoral highness, I only asked leave to take a trip. This was refused me, and hence I was compelled to take this step, although I had long contemplated leaving, for Salzburg is no place for me.” “My God, and you a young man!”