Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 25 June 1874

What a strange town: around the spring, no one; in the gardens, no one; in the baths, a few Russian hippopotamuses screaming at the top of their lungs. Nothing elegant, nothing charming -- this is not a watering place! It is an ugly hole.
I was afraid to plunge into these black baths and to dry myself with this yellow linen; so I did not touch it, but used my own drawers, my petticoat, and my chemise.
On leaving we met the Marquise Viviani; she was enchanted, etc. etc. and told us that at Baas's one can find a good meal. But at Baas's we found two kept women departing for Brussels, and several common and ugly men. After this wretched meal we made the tour of the Garden; I went with Walitsky and Paul to shoot at the shooting range. Then we returned. Spa is deserted; it is devastating.
Following her eager invitations we went to Mme Viviani's; she has a large villa, garden, hens, etc. She says that in ten to fifteen days society will arrive. Let us hope, since there is nothing else to do. We try the table d'hote, which is abominable; I go upstairs and have soup and strawberries sent up, after which I put on my gray dress and the black hat, which does not bother me with longer elastics. I find, as does everyone else for that matter, this dress adorable.
Paul comes to fetch me and we go to the concert, where I find three old men, two and a half Englishmen, a dozen Russians, and nursemaids with babies. Maman was already there, and Gambart, this king of Spa, was talking with her. He invites us Sunday to see his chateau.
The few creatures depart with the musicians. There is a concert of Viennese dances this evening, and at the same time the orchestra plays in the hall; from the reading room we could see this empty hall -- not half, not a quarter of a dancer.
The Casino salons are superb, more beautiful than at Baden and Monaco -- at Baden excepting the new salons, which are very fine.
But everything is empty, deserted, sad. And to crown the pleasure, one is dying of hunger.
[Hotel de l'Europe, Spa, letterhead paper]