together one thousand florins a year; I could do nothing else but answer that I had no doubt that if this happened you would consent for love of me, especially as the Countess declared that there was not the least doubt that the Archbishop would allow you to travel in Italy every second year, since he himself had said how important it was to hear something new from time to time, and that he would furnish you with good letters of introduction. If this were to happen, we might reckon securely on one hundred and fifteen florins a month; and, as things now are, on more than one hundred and twenty florins. We should be better off than in any other place where living is twice as dear, and, not having to look so closely after money, we should be able to think more of amusement. But I am far from thinking the affair a certainty, for I know how hard such a decision will be to the Archbishop. You have the entire goodwill and sympathy of the Countess, that is certain; and it is equally certain that old Arco, Count Stahremberg, and the Bishop of Konigsgratz, are all anxious to bring the matter to a conclusion. But there are reasons, as is always the case; and, as I have always told you, the Countess and old Arco are afraid of my leaving also. They have no one to succeed me as a clavier-teacher: I have the name of teaching well--and, indeed, the proofs are there. They know of no one; and, should a teacher come from Vienna, is it likely that he would give lessons for four florins or a ducat the dozen, when anywhere else he would have two or three ducats? This sets them all in perplexity. But, as I have said before, I do not reckon on it, because I know the Archbishop. It may be true that he sincerely wishes to secure you; but he cannot make up his mind, especially when it concerns _giving_. Probably Wolfgang counted on this fact, and refrained on that account from treating the matter seriously. Just at this time his discomfort in Paris was lightened by a pleasant event. His old London friend Bach, (Vol. I., p. 39), had been invited to write an opera ("Amadis") for Paris. "The French are asses, and always will be," remarks Wolfgang thereupon (July 9, 1778); "they can do nothing themselves, but are obliged to have recourse to foreigners. Bach came to Paris to make the necessary arrangements, and Wolfgang wrote (August 27, 1778):-- Herr Bach has been in Paris for the last fortnight. He is going to write a French opera. He has come to hear the singers; then he goes back to London, writes the opera, and returns to put it on the stage.[34] You may imagine his joy and mine at our meeting. Perhaps mine is {SUMMONS TO SALZBURG.} (65) more sincere, but it must be acknowledged that he is an honest man, and does people justice. I love him, as you know, from my heart, and have a high esteem for him. As for him, he does not flatter or exaggerate as some do, but both to myself and others he praises me seriously and sincerely.