“I cannot imagine a more distinct five-bar rhythm in 3/4 time. What do you think?”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, September 27th (October 9th), 1885.
“The first act of The Enchantress lies finished before me, and I am growing more and more enthusiastic over the task in prospect.
“Dear friend, I like your arrogant views upon my opera. You are quite right to regard this insincere form of art with suspicion. But for a composer opera has some irresistible attraction; it alone offers him the means of getting into touch with the great public. My Manfred will be played once or twice, and then disappear; with the exception of a few people who attend symphony concerts, no one will hear it. Opera, on the contrary—and opera alone—brings us nearer to our fellows, inoculates the public with our music, and makes it the possession, not only of a small circle, but—under favourable circumstances—of the whole nation. I do not think this tendency is to be condemned; that is to say, Schumann, when he wrote Genoveva, and Beethoven, when he wrote Fidelio, were not actuated by ambition, but by a natural desire to increase the circle of their hearers and to penetrate as far as possible into the heart of humanity. Therefore we must not only pursue what is merely effective, but choose subjects of artistic worth which are both interesting and touching.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.
“Maidanovo, October 1st (13th), 1885.
“What a wretch Zola is!! A few weeks ago I accidentally took up his Germinal, began to read it, got interested, and only finished it late at night. I was so upset that I had palpitations, and sleep was impossible. Next day I was quite ill, and now I can only think of the novel as of some fearful nightmare....”
To P. Jurgenson.