I had previously answered you about the opera.  As to Noverre’s ballet, I only wrote that he might perhaps arrange a new one.  He wanted about one half to complete it, and this I set to music.  That is, six pieces are written by others, consisting entirely of old trumpery French airs; the symphony and contre-danses, and about twelve more pieces, are contributed by me.  This ballet has already been given four times with great applause.  I am now positively determined to write nothing more without previously knowing what I am to get for it:  but this was only a friendly act towards Noverre.  Herr Wendling left this last May.  If I were to see Baron Bach, I must have very good eyes, for he is not here but in London.  Is it possible that I did not tell you this?  You shall find that, in future, I will answer all your letters minutely.  It is said that Baron Bach will soon return here; I should be glad of that for many reasons, especially because at his house there will be always opportunity to try things over in good earnest.  Capellmeister Bach will also soon be here; I believe he is writing an opera.  The French are, and always will be, downright donkeys; they can do nothing themselves, so they must have recourse to foreigners.  I talked to Piccini at the Concert Spirituel; he is always most polite to me and I to him when we do by chance meet.  Otherwise I do not seek much acquaintance, either with him or any of the other composers; they understand their work and I mine, and that is enough.  I already wrote to you of the extraordinary success my symphony had in the Concert Spirituel.  If I receive a commission to write an opera, I shall have annoyance enough, but this I shall not much mind, being pretty well accustomed to it—­if only that confounded French language were not so detestable for music!  It is, indeed, too provoking; even German is divine in comparison.  And then the singers—­but they do not deserve the name, for they do not sing, but scream and bawl with all their might through their noses and throats.  I am to compose a French oratorio for the ensuing Lent, to be given at the Concert Spirituel.  M. Le Gros (the director) is amazingly well-disposed towards me.  You must know that (though I used to see him every day) I have not been near him since Easter; I felt so indignant at his not having my symphony performed.  I was often in the same house visiting Raaff, and thus passed his rooms constantly.  His servants often saw me, when I always sent him my compliments.  It is really a pity he did not give the symphony—­it would have been a good hit; and now he has no longer the opportunity to do so, for how seldom are four such performers to be found together!  One day, when I went to call on Raaff, I was told that he was out, but would soon be home; so I waited.  M. Le Gros came into the room and said, “It is really quite a marvel to have the pleasure of seeing you once more.”  “Yes; I have a great deal to do.”  “I hope you will stay and dine with us to-day?”