Chevalier de Mozart.

[He had received from the Pope the cross of the Order of the Golden Spur.]

17.

Bologna, July 21, 1770.

I wish mamma joy of her name-day, and hope that she may live for many hundred years to come and retain good health, which I always ask of God, and pray to Him for you both every day.  I cannot do honor to the occasion except with some Loretto bells, and wax tapers, and caps, and gauze when I return.  In the mean time, good-bye, mamma.  I kiss your hand a thousand times, and remain, till death, your attached son.

18.

Io vi auguro d’Iddio, vi dia sempre salute, e vi lasci vivere ancora cent’ anni e vi faccia morire quando avrete mille anni.  Spero che voi impararete meglio conoscermi ni avvenire e che poi ne giudicherete come ch’ egli vi piace.  Il tempo non mi permette di scriver motto.  La penna non vale un corno, ne pure quello che la dirigge.  Il titolo dell’ opera che ho da comporre a Milano, non si sa ancora.

[Footnote:  “My prayer to God is, that He may grant you health, and allow you to live to be a hundred, and not to die till you are a thousand years old.  I hope that you will learn to know me better in future, and that you will then judge of me as you please.  Time does not permit me to write much.  My pen is not worth a pin, nor the hand that guides it.  I don’t yet know the title of the opera that I am to compose at Milan.”]

My landlady at Rome made me a present of the “Thousand and One Nights” in Italian; it is most amusing to read.

19.

Bologna, August 4, 1770.

I grieve from my heart to hear that Jungfrau Marthe is still so ill, and I pray every day that she may recover.  Tell her from me that she must beware of much fatigue and eat only what is strongly salted [she was consumptive].  A propos, did you give my letter to Robinsiegerl? [Sigismund Robinig, a friend of his].  You did not mention it when you wrote.  I beg that when you see him you will tell him he is not quite to forget me.  I can’t possibly write better, for my pen is only fit to write music and not a letter.  My violin has been newly strung, and I play every day.  I only mention this because mamma wished to know whether I still played the violin.  I have had the honor to go at least six times by myself into the churches to attend their splendid ceremonies.  In the mean time I have composed four Italian symphonies [overtures], besides five or six arias, and also a motett.

Does Herr Deibl often come to see you?  Does he still honor you by his amusing conversation?  And the noble Herr Carl von Vogt, does he still deign to listen to your tiresome voices?  Herr von Schiedenhofen must assist you often in writing minuets, otherwise he shall have no sugar-plums.