Can we imagine what now passed in Mozart’s soul? The artist recognized the artist. Of predecessors, with like creative powers, he could have named only Palestrina. But what moved him still more, and stirred him to the very depths of his heart, was the sublimity of the religious feeling which lives in this spirit, and which laid hold of and lifted Mozart, the Catholic, up all the more because Bach was a Protestant. “Then he grew suddenly quiet, turned bitter, drank a great deal of strong wine, and spoke not another rational word,” writes Rochlitz, who became acquainted with him at this time, and who subsequently distinguished himself as a writer on Mozart. The opera here afforded him no opportunity to display his power, and writing for his own church had little attraction, since, through the reforms of Joseph II., the expenses allowed for music, even for a divine service, the very exigencies of which had created the art, were curtailed to the very utmost. But we shall soon see from his own compositions that he was deeply affected by the sublime peace of this great choir-master. And here, in Leipzig, we notice that he did not allow melancholy, at least externally, to lord it over him. He dined the last evening he spent there at Doles’ house. His host and hostess were very sad, and begged for a memento from his hand. He wrote, in at the most from five to six minutes, on two small leaves of paper, a canon or round for each, one in long notes and very melancholy, the other exceedingly droll. “When it was noticed,” says Rochlitz, “that they could be sung together, he wrote under the one: ‘Farewell, we shall meet again,’ and under the other, ‘Wail away like women old.’ It is impossible to describe what a ridiculous and yet profound, not to say angry and cutting effect this made upon us all, and if I do not mistake, upon himself, for, in a somewhat wild voice, he suddenly exclaimed, ‘Good-bye, children,’ and vanished.” A closer acquaintance with “old Bach,” was the only lasting gain of this long-extended journey. Frederick William I. had, after the frank opinion Mozart had given of his private band, of which J. F. Reichardt was the leader, tendered him that position, at a yearly salary of three thousand thalers. But Mozart asked himself: “Shall I forsake my emperor?” This was the expression of the home-feeling he had for Austria--a feeling the fruitful and fostering soil of which would certainly have been lost in the sands of a margrave. One hundred Frederick sd’or, in a golden snuff-box, and a commission for three quartets--the king, who himself played the cello, was very fond of this kind of music--were, however, a moderate remuneration.