Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Friday, 4 October 1878

Friday, 4 October 1878

Saturday [28 September 1878]
In your better hours, dear Moussia, you are yourself — that is to say, the warm-hearted child and the amiable young woman! That, believe me, is worth more than ill-bred brusqueness and lapses from politeness and good manners. At fifty, originality is a flower one puts in one's white hair; but in fair hair it is a thistle that only asses will condescend to eat!! When those around you tell you that a foolish thing is charming, you have wit enough not to feel that you are playing a false note in the human concert — you look at me, divine me, and know where you stand... You hold all the trumps needed to win the game, but you must hold your cards better. Trust in my old affection of eight years in your life, little Moussia — that is something. I adore your nature; I abominate your faults; I feel that my heart would make me snatch you from the flames — cross all Europe to come to your rescue — and yet at certain moments I would throw you out of the window! Perhaps, with all my grumbling, I am the only friend who truly wishes your happiness. In ten years, when you know life, you will know whether I speak truly. See how I brought up my daughter — and yet you will admit that in talent and worth, Marie is a person of uncommon quality. My dear Moussia, believe me — I know life and its consequences better than anyone! Society has but one code, especially for all those born to it: money, wit, talent — these are enquired into only to be envied or exploited, a fine harvest! Goodness and charm — those are the two sole forces of a woman, the two qualities cited alone, even to the credit of princesses! On that note, thank you, my dear; your Russian concert gave me only its second half — I had people to luncheon. But it made me weep.
I embrace you with all my heart.
F. de Mouzay
Today we spent nearly four hours at an international dramatic and musical matinée.
They performed excerpts from Aristophanes in hideous costumes — so abridged, rearranged, and remade that it was dreadful. What was superb was a dramatic recitation, Christopher Columbus, delivered in Italian by Rossi. What a voice, what intonations, what expression, what naturalness! It was better than music... I believe it would seem admirable even to one who did not understand Italian. While I listened to him I adored him almost as much as the Deceased.
Ah! what power the spoken word has, even when it is learnt, even when it is not eloquence. The handsome Mounet-Sully recited afterwards... but I shall not even speak of it.
Rossi creates great art; he is a great artist in his soul. I saw him at the exit speaking to two other men — he is common... he is an actor. But an artist of that degree must have a certain greatness of character even in daily life; I saw it in his eyes. He cannot be a perfectly ordinary man — but the charm exists only while he speaks... oh! then it is marvellous... The nihilists who mock the Arts!

Notes

Ernesto Rossi (1827–1896), celebrated Italian tragic actor famous for his Shakespeare and classical roles. His dramatic recitation of Christopher Columbus was evidently a set piece in his repertoire. ↩