Tolstoi agreed with me partly, but said that this was the case in other arts as well:
“There are some ideas which can be understood by all and are necessary to all, but are expressed in the language of a small group of people. For instance, the poem ‘I remember the wonderful moment,’ or ‘When to the mortal the noisy day passes into silence’—do you remember them? A peasant couldn’t understand them.”
Tolstoi said:
“I was thinking a great deal about art to-day and I re-read my article, and I must confess I agreed with my ideas.”
Tolstoi is reading the English biography of Chopin (by Huneker). He does not like it. He said to me:
“I have not read books of that kind for a long time. The author does not reveal Chopin’s inner life, but displays his own erudition, his ability to write well and wittily. He is controversial and proves the faults of other biographers. But there is no Chopin here.... Yet there are many interesting facts in it. It is the life of a small circle of poets, writers, and musicians—what a perverted and terrible life! And George Sand, that disgusting woman!... I can’t understand her success.”
Marie Nikolaevna, who was listening, said:
“No! she has done good things. Take, for instance, her Consuelo.”
“No, that is not good. It is all false and bad and tedious; I could never read it.”