“To-day we went to the gallery of the Palazzo Borghese, in which there are some masterpieces. I was most impressed by Correggio’s superb picture ‘Danae.’[74]
“Dear friend, leading such a life, amid all these beautiful impressions of nature and art, ought not a man to be happy? And yet a worm continually gnaws in secret at my heart. I sleep badly, and do not feel that courage and freshness which I might expect under the present conditions. Only for a moment can I conquer my mental depression. My God! What an incomprehensible and complicated machine the human organism is! We shall never solve the various phenomena of our spiritual and material existence. And how can we draw the line between the intellectual and physiological phenomena of our life? At times it seems to me as though I suffered from a mysterious, but purely physical, malady which influences my mental phases. Lately I have thought my heart was out of order; but then I remembered that last summer the doctor who examined it declared my heart to be absolutely sound. So I must lay the blame on my nerves—but what are nerves? Why, on one and the same day, without any apparent reason, do they act quite normally for a time, and then lose their elasticity and energy, and leave one incapable of work and insensible to artistic impressions? These are riddles.
“There is a lovely bunch of violets in front of me. There are quantities here. Spring is coming in to her own.”
To P. I. Jurgenson.
“Rome, February 5th (17th), 1880.
“Good Lord, what a stupid idea to go and print that score!!![75] It is not profitable, is no use to anyone, nor satisfactory in any respect—simply absurd. The moral is: when you want to prepare a little surprise for me, ask my advice first. I assure you, in spite of my well-known naïveté, I have more sound common sense than many clever, worthy, but too enthusiastic people—such as the person for example who suggested you should engrave this score. All the same, my unfavourable view does not prevent my being grateful—even in this case—for your friendship, which I value tremendously.
“Is it not time to lay the score of The Maid of Orleans before the Opera Direction? I think it is just the right moment....”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Rome, February 6th (18th), 1880.
“The more I look at Michel Angelo’s works the more wonderful they seem to me. Just now I was contemplating his ‘Moses.’ The church was empty, and there was nothing to disturb my meditations. I assure you I was filled with terror. You will remember that Moses is standing with his head slightly turned towards the sacrifice which is to be offered to Baal. His expression is angry and menacing; his figure majestic and commanding. One feels he has only to speak a word, for erring mortals to fall on their knees before him. It is impossible to conceive anything more perfect than this great statue. With this genius the form expresses his entire thought, there is nothing forced, no pose, such as we see, for instance, in Bernini’s statues, of which Rome unfortunately possesses so many examples.