“Look here, Berlioz. Next time you go up to the mountains don’t evolve any more songs; your _Captive_ is making life in the Villa impossible. I can’t go a yard without hearing it sung or snored or growled. It is simply distracting! I am going to discharge one of the servants to-day, and I shall only engage another on condition that he does not sing the _Captive_.” The only other thing I did was the _Resurrexit_ that I sent as my obligatory work to Paris. The Powers said that I had made _great progress_. As it was simply a piece of the mass performed at St Roch several years before I got the prize, it does not say much for the judgment of the Immortals! _To_ HUMBERT FERRAND. “_January 1832._--Why did you not tell me of your marriage? Of course, I believe, since you say so, that you did not get my letters, but--even so--how could you keep silence? “Your _Noce des Fées_ is exquisite; so fresh, so full of dainty grace, but I cannot make music to it yet. Orchestration is not sufficiently advanced; I must first educate and dematerialise it, then perhaps I may think of treading in Weber’s footsteps. But here is my idea for an oratorio--the mere carcase, that you must vitalise: “‘The World’s Last Day.’ “The height of civilisation, the depth of corruption, under a mighty tyrant, throughout the earth. “A faithful handful of God’s people, left alive by the tyrant’s contempt, under a prophet, Balthasar, who confronts the ruler and announces the end of the world. The tyrant, in amused scorn, forces him to be present at a travesty of the Last Day, but during its performance, the earth quakes, angels sound gigantic trumpets, the True Christ appears, the Judgment has come. * * * * * “That is all. Tell me if the subject appeals to you. Do not attempt detail, it is lost in the Opera House. And, if possible, do not be tied down by the absurd bond of rhyme--use it or not, as seem best. “I want to leave here in May; if possible, I will get the whole of my pension; if I cannot I must just go on a tour here. I have just finished an important article on the state of music in Italy for the _Revue Européenne_. * * * * * “_March._--Many thanks for your confession of colossal idleness. Will you never be cured? “You have read me a fine homily, but you are entirely out in your conjecture. “I shall never admire ugliness in art. What I said about rhyme was only to make things easier for you. I could not bear you to waste time and talent over unnecessary difficulties. You know as well as I do that, in hundreds of cases, in verses set to music the rhymes disappear entirely--then why bother about them? “As for the literary side of the question, I am quite sure it is only custom and education that make you dislike blank verse.