In “Achill in Sciro” there is an air of this kind, “or che mio figlio sei.”  I thank my sister very much for the list of comedies she sent me.  It is singular enough about the comedy “Rache fur Rache”; it was frequently given here with much applause, and quite lately too, though I was not there myself.  I beg you will present my devoted homage to Madlle.  Therese von Barisani; if I had a brother, I would request him to kiss her hand in all humility, but having a sister only is still better, for I beg she will embrace her in the most affectionate manner in my name.  A propos, do write a letter to Cannabich; he deserves it, and it will please him exceedingly.  What does it matter if he does not answer you?  You must not judge him from his manner; he is the same to every one, and means nothing.  You must first know him well.

132.

Munich, Dec. 5, 1780.

The death of the Empress [Maria Theresa] does not at all affect my opera, for the theatrical performances are not suspended, and the plays go on as usual.  The entire mourning is not to last more than six weeks, and my opera will not be given before the 20th of January.  I wish you to get my black suit thoroughly brushed to make it as wearable as possible, and forward it to me by the first diligence; for next week every one must be in mourning, and I, though constantly on the move, must cry with the others.

With regard to Raaff’s last aria, I already mentioned that we both wish to have more touching and pleasing words.  The word era is constrained; the beginning good, but gelida massa is again hard.  In short, far-fetched or pedantic expressions are always inappropriate in a pleasing aria.  I should also like the air to express only peace and contentment; and one part would be quite as good—­in fact, better, in my opinion.  I also wrote about Panzacchi; we must do what we can to oblige the good old man.  He wishes to have his recitative in the third act lengthened a couple of lines, which, owing to the chiaro oscuro and his being a good actor, will have a capital effect.  For example, after the strophe, “Sei la citta del pianto, e questa reggia quella del duol,” comes a slight glimmering of hope, and then, “Madman that I am! whither does my grief lead me?” “Ah!  Creta tutta io vedo.”  The Abbato Varesco is not obliged to rewrite the act on account of these things, for they can easily be interpolated.  I have also written that both I and others think the oracle’s subterranean speech too long to make a good effect.  Reflect on this.  I must now conclude, having such a mass of writing to do.  I have not seen Baron Lehrbach, and don’t know whether he is here or not; and I have no time to run about.  I may easily not know whether he is here, but he cannot fail to know positively that I am.  Had I been a girl, no doubt he would have come to see me long ago.  Now adieu!

I have this moment received your letter of the 4th December.  You must begin to accustom yourself a little to the kissing system.  You can meanwhile practise with Maresquelli, for each time that you come to Dorothea Wendling’s (where everything is rather in the French style) you will have to embrace both mother and daughter, but—­N.  B., on the chin, so that the paint may not be rubbed off.  More of this next time.  Adieu!