“So you have been in Milan! Not a town I like, but it is the threshold of Italy. I cannot tell you how much, when the weather is fine, I long for my ancient Campagna and the wild hills that I loved. “You ask for news of us. “Louis can nearly walk alone and Henriette is more devoted to him than ever. I work like a nigger for the four papers whence I get my daily bread. They are the _Rénovateur_, which pays badly; the _Monde Dramatique_ and _Gazette Musicale_ which pay only fairly; the _Débats_, which pays well. “Added to this is the nightmare of my musical life; I cannot find time to compose. “I have begun a gigantic piece of work for seven hundred musicians, to the memory of the great men of France. “It would soon be done if I had but one quiet month, but I dare not give up a single day to it, lest we should want for absolute necessaries. “Which concert do you refer to? I have given seven this season and shall begin again in November. “At present we sit dumb under the triumph of Musard,[12] who, puffed up by the success of his dancing-den concerts, looks upon himself as a superior Mozart. Mozart never composed anything like the ‘Pistol-shot Quadrille,’ consequently Mozart died of want. “Musard is earning twenty thousand francs a year, and Ballanche, the immortal author of _Orpheus_ and _Antigone_ was nearly thrown into prison, because he owed two hundred francs. “Think of it, Ferrand; does not madness lie that way? If I were a bachelor, so that my rash doings would recoil on myself alone, I know what I would do. “Never mind that now, though. Love me always and, to please me, read de Vigny’s _Chatterton_.” “_December 1835._--Do not think me a sinner for leaving you so long in silence. You can have no idea of my work--but I need not emphasise that, for you know how much pleasure I have in writing to you and that I should not lightly forego it. “I have seen Coste, who is publishing serially _Great Men of Italy_, and he is going to approach you about contributing some articles. Among those now out is a life of Benvenuto Cellini. Read it, if you are not already familiar with the autobiography of that bandit of genius. “_Harold_ is more successful even than last year, and I think it quite outdoes the _Fantastique_. “They have accepted my _Cellini_ for the Opera; Alfred de Vigny[13] and Auguste Barbier have written me a poem full of dainty vivacity and colour. I have not begun to work at the music yet, because I am in the same predicament as my hero, Cellini--short of money. Good reports from Germany, thanks to Liszt’s piano arrangement of my Symphony. * * * * * “_April 1826._--I still work frightfully hard at journalism. You know I write concert critiques for the _Débats_, which are signed ‘H.’