to speak, though troublesome to write, but still useful.  It is, I own, rather a little childish, but will do capitally for Salzburg.  My kind regards to pretty Nandl and to the canary, for these two and yourself are the most innocent creatures in our house.  Fischietti [the Archbishop’s Capellmeister] will no doubt soon begin to work at his opera buffa (translated into German, his crazy opera!).  Addio!

The following letter of Wolfgang’s shows the sparkling state of his spirits, caused by the completion of his opera.  At each line he turns the page, so that one line stands, as it were, on the head of the other.  The father, too, in the joy of his heart that the arduous work was drawing to a close, and with it his long journey, writes four lines, one above another, round the edge of the page, so that the whole forms a framework for a sketch of a burning heart and four triangles (symbols of fidelity), and a bird on the wing from whose beak a distich is streaming:—­

Oh! fly to seek my child so fair Here, and there, and everywhere!

Wolfgang adds:—­

48.

Milan, Dec. 18, 1772.

I hope, dear sister, that you are well, dear sister.  When this letter reaches you, dear sister, my opera will be in scena, dear sister.  Think of me, dear sister, and try, dear sister, to imagine with all your might that my dear sister sees and hears it also.  In truth, it is hard to say, as it is now eleven o’clock at night, but I do believe, and don’t at all doubt, that in the daytime it is brighter than at Easter.  My dear sister, to-morrow we dine with Herr von Mayer; and do you know why?  Guess!  Because he invited us.  The rehearsal to-morrow is to be in the theatre.  The impresario, Signor Cassiglioni, has entreated me not to say a word of this to a soul, as all kinds of people would come crowding in, and that we don’t wish.  So, my child, I beg, my child, that you won’t say one syllable to any one on the subject, or too many people would come crowding in, my child.  Approposito, do you know the history that occurred here?  Well, I will relate it to you.  We were going home straight from Count Firmiani’s, and when we came into our street we opened our door, and what do you think happened?  We went in.  Good-bye, my pet.  Your unworthy brother (frater),

Wolfgang.

On the 26th of December “an incomparable performance” of “Lucio Silla” took place; it was eminently successful, and continued to fill the house night after night in the most surprising way.  The father writes home regularly, and Wolfgang subjoins the usual postscripts, which, however, at this time contain nothing worth quoting.  We give only part of an Italian letter which he writes for practice:—­

49.

....  Vi prego di dire al Sig.  Giovanni Hagenauer da parte mia, che non dubiti, che andro a veder sicuramente in quella bottega delle armi, se ci sono quei nomi [?] che lui desidera, e che senza dubbio doppo averlo trovato le portero meco a Salisburgo.  Mi dispiace che il Sig.  Leitgeb e partito tanto tardi da Salisburgo [see No. 46] che non trovera piu in scena la mia opera e forte non ci trovera nemeno, se non in viaggio.