I am going to Lord Archer's, where the Concert des dames is held to night. Pacchierotti sings, & the band is the best that can be selected as well as the Company, who being all of the Meiller Ton, must, you know, greatly meliorate the concert. The opera does not go on to my wish. The Town is all Cabal. Alegrante by small judges is malevolently pitted against our friend, & she is no more to be compared with him, than Mrs Clive was to Mrs Cibber. He is an excellent Comic singer, with good taste, & many pretty & new passages, but she sings chiefly in falset, has no shake, & has neither the resources nor divine enthusiasm of our friend. I want to be pleased with both in their several genres; but I am not allowed, for by asking too much for Alegrante, I am perhaps inclined to give too little, and by speaking irreverently & unfairly of the Pacch. I am perhaps too red hot in his praises. The opera, however, is dwindling again into a mere Dancing Entertainment. The Ballets historique fill the house more than the singing. Made Theodore is truly charming in the Demi-Caractere. It is exhilarating to see her legereté of motion. She heres & theres it like a butterfly, & yet dancing at an Opera is at best but a secondary thing, & should ever strike the flag to Music... << less