“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.
“Just think! Three quarters of Shakespeare is so written, so is Klopstock’s Messiah. Byron used it, and lately I read a translation of Julius Cæsar that ran perfectly, although you had prepared me to be utterly shocked.
“So my subject appeals to you? It is new, grand and fertile, so imagine into it all that you like. As far as the music is concerned I am exploring a virgin Brazilian forest and great are the treasures I hope to find.”