I must give you a piece of intelligence that you perhaps already know—­namely, that the ungodly arch-villain Voltaire has died miserably like a dog—­just like a brute.  This is his reward!  You must long since have remarked that I do not like being here, for many reasons, which, however, do not signify as I am actually here.  I never fail to do my very best, and to do so with all my strength.  Well, God will make all things right.  I have a project in my head, for the success of which I daily pray to God.  If it be His almighty will, it must come to pass; but, if not, I am quite contented.  I shall then at all events have done my part.  When this is in train, and if it turns out as I wish, you must then do your part also, or the whole work would be incomplete.  Your kindness leads me to hope that you will certainly do so.  Don’t trouble yourself by any useless thoughts on the subject; and one favor I must beg of you beforehand, which is, not to ask me to reveal my thoughts more clearly till the time comes.  It is very difficult at present to find a good libretto for an opera.  The old ones, which are the best, are not written in the modern style, and the new ones are all good for nothing; for poetry, which was the only thing of which France had reason to be proud, becomes every day worse, and poetry is the only thing which requires to be good here, for music they do not understand.  There are now two operas in aria which I could write, one in two acts, and the other in three.  The two-act one is “Alexandra et Roxane,” but the author of the libretto is still in the country; the one in three acts is “Demofonte” (by Metastasio).  It is a translation interspersed with choruses and dancing, and specially adapted to the French stage.  But this one I have not yet got a sight of.  Write to me whether you have Schroter’s concertos in Salzburg, or Hullmandell’s sonatas.  I should like to buy them to send to you.  Both of them are beautiful.  With regard to Versailles, it never was my intention to go there.  I asked the advice of Baron Grimm and other kind friends on the point, and they all thought just as I did.  The salary is not much, and I should be obliged to live a dreary life for six months in a place where nothing is to be gained, and my talents completely buried.  Whoever enters the king’s service is forgotten in Paris; and then to become an organist!  A good appointment would be most welcome to me, but only that of a Capellmeister, and a well-paid one too.

Now, farewell!  Be careful of your health; place your trust in God, and then you will find consolation.  My dearest mother is in the hands of the Almighty.  If He still spares her to us, as I wish He may, we will thank Him for this blessing, but if He takes her to Himself, all our anguish, misery, and despair can be of no avail.  Let us rather submit with firmness to His almighty will, in the full conviction that it will prove for our good, as he does nothing without a cause.  Farewell, dearest papa!  Do what you can to preserve your health for my sake.