To-day I am going to the Lateran, and the ruins of ancient Rome; and in the evening to a kind English family, whose acquaintance I made here. Pray send me a good many letters of introduction. I am exceedingly anxious to know numbers of people, especially Italians. So I live on happily, and think of you in every pleasant moment. May you also be happy, and rejoice with me at the prospect which lies before me here!
No post left this the day before yesterday, and I could not talk to you, so when I remembered that my letter must necessarily remain two days before it left Rome, I felt it impossible to write; but I thought of you times without number, and wished you every happiness, and congratulated myself that you were born a certain number of years ago. It is, indeed, cheering to think what charming, rational beings, are to be found in the world; and you are certainly one of these. Continue cheerful, bright, and well, and make no great change in yourself. I don't think you require to be much better; may good fortune ever abide with you!
And now I think these are all my birthday good wishes; for really it is not fair to expect that a man of my _calibre_ should wish you also a fresh stock of musical ideas; besides you are very unreasonable in complaining of any deficiency in that respect. _Per Bacco!_ if you had the inclination, you certainly have sufficient genius to compose, and if you have no desire to do so, why grumble so much? If I had a baby to nurse, I certainly should not write any scores, and as I have to compose _Non Nobis_, I cannot unluckily carry my nephew about in my arms. But to speak seriously, your child is scarcely six months old yet, and you can think of anything but Sebastian?[6] (not Bach!) Be thankful that you have him. Music only retreats when there is no longer a place for her, and I am not surprised that you are not an unnatural mother. However, you have my best wishes on your birthday, for all that your heart desires; so I may as well wish you half-a-dozen melodies into the bargain; not that this will be of much use.
In Rome here, we celebrated the 14th of November by the sky shining, in blue and festive array, and breathing on us warm genial air. So I went on pleasantly towards the Capitol and into church, where I heard a miserable sermon from ----, who is no doubt a very good man, but to my mind has a most morose style of preaching; and any one who could irritate me on _such_ a day, in the Capitol, and in church, must have an especial talent for so doing. I afterwards went to call on Bunsen, who had just arrived. He and his wife received me most kindly, and we conversed on much that was interesting, including politics and regrets for your absence. _Apropos_, my favourite work that I am now studying is Goethe's 'Lili's Park,' especially three portions: "Kehr' ich mich um, und brumm:" then, "Eh la menotte;" and best of all, "Die ganze Luft ist warm, ist blüthevoll," where decidedly clarionets must be introduced. I mean to make it the subject of a scherzo for a symphony.