7.

Milan, March 3, 1770.

Cara sorella mia,—­

I am heartily glad that you have had so much amusement.  Perhaps you may think that I have not been as merry as you; but, indeed, I cannot sum up all we have done.  I think we have been at least six or seven times at the opera and the feste di ballo, which, as in Vienna, begin after the opera, but with this difference, that at Vienna the dancing is more orderly.  We also saw the facchinata and chiccherata.  The first is a masquerade, an amusing sight, because the men go as facchini, or porters; there was also a barca filled with people, and a great number on foot besides; and five or six sets of trumpets and kettledrums, besides several bands of violins and other instruments.  The chiccherata is also a masquerade.  What the people of Milan call chicchere, we call petits maitres, or fops.  They were all on horseback, which was a pretty sight.  I am as happy now to hear that Herr von Aman [Footnote:  The father had written in a previous letter, “Herr von Aman’s accident, of which you wrote to us, not only distressed us very much, but cost Wolfgang many tears.  You know how sensitive he is”] is better, as I was grieved when you mentioned that he had met with an accident.  What kind of mask did Madame Rosa wear, and Herr von Molk, and Herr von Schiedenhofen?  Pray write this to me, if you know it; your doing so will oblige me very much.  Kiss mamma’s hands for me a thousand million times, and a thousand to yourself from “Catch him who can!” Why, here he is!

8.

Bologna, March 24, 1770.

Oh, you busy creature!

Having been so long idle, I thought it would do me no harm to set to work again for a short time.  On the post-days, when the German letters come, all that I eat and drink tastes better than usual.  I beg you will let me know who are to sing in the oratorio, and also its title.  Let me hear how you like the Haydn minuets, and whether they are better than the first.  From my heart I rejoice to hear that Herr von Aman is now quite recovered; pray say to him that he must take great care of himself and beware of any unusual exertion.  Be sure you tell him this.  I intend shortly to send you a minuet that Herr Pick danced on the stage, and which every one in Milan was dancing at the feste di ballo, only that you may see by it how slowly people dance.  The minuet itself is beautiful.  Of course it comes from Vienna, so no doubt it is either Teller’s or Starzer’s.  It has a great many notes.  Why?  Because it is a theatrical minuet, which is in slow time.  The Milan and Italian minuets, however, have a vast number of notes, and are slow and with a quantity of bars; for instance, the first part has sixteen, the second twenty, and even twenty-four.

We made the acquaintance of a singer in Parma, and also heard her to great advantage in her own house—­I mean the far-famed Bastardella.  She has, first, a fine voice; second, a flexible organ; third, an incredibly high compass.  She sang the following notes and passages in my presence.