“The number of people who made a good impression on him, who pleased him, and of whom he spoke in their absence as ‘good’ and ‘sympathetic,’ sometimes astounded me. The power of seeing the best side of people and of things was a gift inherited from his father, and it was precisely this love of his fellow-creatures which made him so beloved in return. He was no misanthropist, rather a philanthropist in the true sense of the word. Neither is there greater justice in his self-accusation of ‘indolence.’ Those who have followed him through his school-life, his official career, and his student days at the Conservatoire, will be of my opinion. But a glance at the number of his works, which reaches seventy-six, including ten operas and three ballets; at his letters (I possess, in all, four thousand); at his literary work (sixty-one articles); at his translations and arrangements, and his ten years’ teaching, will suffice to convince the most sceptical that his nature knew no moods of _dolce far niente_.” As regards his “weariness of life,” he himself disposes of it in the same letter, when he speaks of yearning for a calm and happy existence. Those who are really world-weary have no longing for any kind of existence. Neither misanthropy, indolence, nor weariness were his permanent moods. His indefinite craving for an easier life was caused by his creative impulse, which, waxing ever stronger and stronger, awoke the desire for more leisure to devote to it. This longing for freedom reached a climax in 1877, and brought about a complete change in his life. For the time being it was useless to think of solitude or freedom. All he could hope for was the comparative liberty of his summer vacation. Town life was a necessity to him from the material and moral point of view, and although he complained of its being oppressive, I believe that had he been compelled by fate to reside in the country--as he did some years later--he would, at this earlier period of his career, have had much more cause for complaint. _To Anatol Tchaikovsky._ “_August_ 31_st_, 1867 (_September_ 12_th_). “ ... At present I have nothing to do, and loaf about the town all day.... Ostrovsky still keeps me on the trot. I read in the Petersburg papers that he had completed my libretto, but it is not so. I had some difficulty in dragging the first half of the lost act out of him. I am wandering about with the intention of buying a large writing-table to make my room more comfortable, so that I can work at my opera at home. I am determined to finish it during the winter. Last night we celebrated Dubuque’s birthday, and I came back rather the worse for liquor. “I have spent two evenings running at the ‘English Club.’ What a delightful club! It would be jolly to belong to it, but it costs too much....”