great festival, which is to be honoured by musicians and singers from Milan. The gardiner asked me if I knew what a wind instrument was. I assured him with a good conscience that I did, and then he said I must imagine thirty of them together with fiddles and bass viols as well, but indeed, he went on, I couldn’t imagine it, one must hear a thing like that before one could believe it. It was sound that seemed to descend from heaven, and all brought about by “Philharmonics.” What he understood by this I cannot tell, but it had made more impression on him than the best orchestra would make on many musical critics….
Another very pleasant acquaintance I made at Milan was that of Herr Mozart, who is an official there, but a musician at heart. He must have a great resemblance to his father, especially in character, for the things, he says, continually recall to one’s mind the naïveté and frankness of his father’s letters, and one’s heart goes out to him at once. I very much admire his jealousy for his father’s reputation, as though he was now commencing his career. One evening at the Ertmann’s, after we had played a great deal of Beethoven, the baroness whispered to me that it was time to have something by Mozart, otherwise the son would be unhappy, and when I had played the overture to Don Juan, he thawed completely, and begged to hear “his father’s Zauberflöte.” At this last he was as pleased as a child; one could not but like him. He gave me letters to his friends about Como. So I have caught a glimpse
