Sunday, 14 October 1877

How can one not adore Verdi. I know nothing more remarkable than his Aïda. Every chord and every phrase speaks. [Lines cancelled: I truly believe one would understand] the meaning of the piece and in what country it is set and everything — without seeing the stage and without hearing the words. It is in this sense that I place Aïda above all music in the world. And then what charm, what force, what exquisite feeling.
You know, I do not speak of it from the learned point of view — I could not, and it would be a pity. One is more... one enjoys it more not knowing how it is made.
Having no serious ambition in music, I know of it only what is required of a person of taste who does not wish to compose.
It is this evening, playing airs from Aïda on my mandolin, that I am wild about it. I had forgotten music... Music inclines one toward life, toward gaiety, toward tears, toward love — toward everything that stirs, contents, and torments — whereas drawing is a labour that lifts you from the earth and renders you indifferent to everything save your art.
I was taken for a drive in the Bois — the weather was very fine and the air so mild that I fancied myself in Italy. One must contrive something for Sundays — I am vexed to lose a day each week, for I do not know how to rest; when I rest, I am bored.
No doubt the study of music demands the same application, the same absorption — but so long as one performs it, whether for oneself or for others, one must submit to all its influences.
One becomes passionate about drawing, about painting — but they never [word blacked out: will make you...] — I go mad when I cannot express my thought!!
Besides, I say things perfectly well known — I only wish it to be known what I think of them.
The music of Aïda is like the Gretchen of Max. It speaks — it tells you the whole story, down to the slightest nuances; I assure you one can tell whether a scene takes place indoors or in the open, by day or by night, simply by hearing the music.
While I say these abstract things, "breathless France" awaits the election results. For today is the day. The Marshal must have had a poor dinner this evening. How much I regret having no one to keep me informed of all these machinations.

Notes

The legislative elections of 14 October 1877, in which the republican opposition dealt a heavy defeat to Marshal MacMahon's conservative government. MacMahon had dissolved the chamber in May after a clash with the republican majority — the republicans swept back in with 326 seats to the conservatives' 207.