Refreshed

Saturday, February 20th., Rue de Calais, Paris.

Last night at 11 I finished another section of "A Great Man", having written 8,300 words in four days. It is too much. Today I needed a rest so I decided to rearrange my bookshelves. Is there anything more relaxing, and satisfying, than messing about with books? I recently acquired a couple more shelves having been on the verge of running out of space, and this gave me the opportunity to have a good rearrangement. And of course I permitted myself to be tempted to browse in the books as I went along. I feel a new man now.

This evening I am to go to the Ambigu to see "Nana", a drama in five acts drawn by William Busnach from Zola's novel. It was first produced at the Ambigu in 1881. Amande Cassive in the title role. She is about forty now but still a pretty woman apparently. I am not much for seeing plays based on novels. They never do justice and the characters never correspond to the image I have in my head from reading. Still, I feel ready for anything after today and am especially hungry so out into the Paris night for a good dinner then off to the theatre. Who knows what adventures may await?

Performances

Sunday, February 21st., Rue de Calais, Paris.

Last night "Nana", drama in five acts drawn by William Busnach from Zola's novel, at the Ambigu. First produced at the Ambigu in 1881. Cassive in the title role. A thoroughly rotten and cruel melodrama, interspersed with 'comic relief' of the most footling sort. Yet it made one think of the book. And my admiration for the book leapt out again into a flame. It is not one of the greatest books, but it is superlatively done, a tremendous achievement of colossal and distinguished labour. I think only another author can appreciate the scale of the achievement. How Zola must have felt when he wrote the last lines.

I drank some tea at midnight. And, reaching home, found a telegram from Harrison of the Haymarket, saying that Lewis Waller wanted a play, and might he see "The Chancellor"? The tea and the telegram prevented me from sleeping. God knows why.

This afternoon, Lamoreux concert to hear, chiefly, Richard Strauss's "Life of a Hero". It came at the end of an exhausting programme, but I was much impressed by its beauty. I heard it under difficulties for the audience became restive, talked and protested. One old man insisted on going out. There is a rule about not entering or leaving during a piece, but this old man cried so loud and shook the doors so that the pompiers were obliged to let him through. Applause and hisses at the end from a full audience. One more exhibition of the betise of an audience when confronted by something fresh, extravagant and powerful. It would be absurd to condemn this or any other particular audience, for all audiences are alike. The sarcastic and bitter opposition must be taken as a tribute to the power of the art. Was not "Tannhauser" simply laughed off the stage at the first performance? I liked the piece better than I thought I should - a great deal. The first thing of Richard Strauss that I have heard.

I am rather solitary at the moment which is good for work but not for my nerves. I could do with a little more society, especially female society. Time spent with a 'sympathetic' woman would do me a lot of good. 12,500 words written this week.