“We came here quite unexpectedly. I was so unwell in Milan that I decided to remain a day here, which our tickets permit us to do. My indisposition is not of such great importance. The real trouble is my depression--a wearing, maddening depression, which never leaves me for a moment. In Clarens, where I was living an absolutely quiet life, I was often overcome by melancholy. Not being able to account for these attacks of depression, I attributed them to the mountains. What childishness! I persuaded myself that I need only cross the frontiers of Italy, and a life of perfect happiness would begin! Nonsense! Here I feel a hundred times worse. The weather is glorious, the days are as warm as in July, there is something to see, something to distract me, and yet I am tormented by an overwhelming, gigantic depression. How to account for it I do not know. If I had not asked all my correspondents to address their letters to me in Rome, I think I should not travel any further. I must get as far as that, it is clear, but I am not fit just now for a tourist’s life.... I have not come here for sight-seeing, but to cure myself by work. At the present moment it seems to me impossible to work in Italy, especially in Rome. I regret _terribly_ the peace and quiet of Clarens, where I had made a successful effort to return to my work, and I am seriously wondering whether it might not be better to return there.... What will become of me when my brother goes? I cannot think of that moment without a shudder. But I neither wish, nor am I able, to return to Russia. You see how I keep turning in this _cercle vicieux_....” _To N. F. von Meck._ “ROME, _November_ 7_th_ (19_th_), 1877. “ ... We arrived in Rome quite early this morning. This time I entered the famous city with a troubled heart. How true it is that we do not draw our happiness from our surroundings, but from our inward being! This has been sufficiently proved by my present tour in Italy.