Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 23 July 1874

The alarm rings when I am already awake at half past seven. Everyone is in a bad mood. There were difficulties on account of the horses. The marquise is ill-disposed too. She speaks of Gambart with bitterness and says that in town people are talking, but "these young ladies have no need of anything." Old witch!
My horse is bad -- it does not know how to trot, and we go miserably. I feared that Papa would be bored with us. He spoke of the baron: he is comme il faut, distinguished, but one must forgive his manners; he does everything out of innocence, without ulterior motive, he said. I replied that this is true, and that if one regarded him otherwise than as a spoiled child, one would deal with him otherwise.
The horse martyrs me; I am delighted to arrive. I pity the people in the break -- there was no one of note, almost no gentlemen, and dusty ladies. We arrive at an inn; there are difficulties about all sorts of things. The party absolutely lacks unity, and above all a leader. We put on the costumes to visit the grotto, and each holds a light. The entrance produced a great effect -- the people in broad white garments, hoods, with lights, following one another. Soon the daylight vanishes and one advances over uneven and slippery bars, with immense black and terrible rocks overhead. The echo is very sharp; everyone begins to shout, which produces roars of extraordinary force.
[Top of page torn and removed]
A guide leads us. At every moment one seemed to reach the end; one thought there were no more passages -- but the guide pointed out a hole through which one passed and found oneself again in an immense damp cavern, majestic and terrible.
But arriving before a ladder the entire party hesitated. Indeed, this ladder, placed almost vertically, descending through a small and narrow opening, was not inviting. I insisted we go on; after much debate, I declared I would go alone if no one comes. All these people, raising their arms to heaven and waving them about, began crying that it was impossible, that my mother would not permit it, that it was frightful, that it was death, that no one would go. Then, seeing me calmly begin my descent in search of death and horror, they began to implore, to howl, to bellow and moan, to exasperate themselves and despair, watching me stopped in the middle of my descent, leaning calmly on the fearsome ladder and laughing at their terrors. I laughed because they resembled the chorus of druids in La Norma, when they demand the immolation [sic]. Papari etc. in that costume, eyes bulging from their sockets, mouth open, nose more hooked than ever, appeared immense; all the others seemed indignant, so tall was he. I took pity -- and above all I did not want to make a scene; I climbed back up and returned with the druids, swearing to myself never again to go with hippopotami. Better with one's family than in such company. Each person pays for himself today. A three-course dinner was served.
There is a lack of enthusiasm; everyone looks as though they are here from duty. The marquise is shrewish and says things almost unpleasant to everyone. After this fine dinner we go to be bored for an hour and a half by the river. I brought my walking clothes, as I am to return with Gambart on foot. I am in a pleated light wool skirt and a man's overcoat of unbleached linen, fastened by a linen belt; Massa hat. I am rosy, for I rose early. The pretence of conversation is stiff, detached. Paul and Walitsky fish in the distance. I go to join them, accompanied by Comte Gurini, who always strikes up an Italian conversation with me. The Polish count follows Dina everywhere, taking her as the confidante of his enigmas. They come towards us. Dina puts on butterfly airs and gets her trousers quite wet crossing the stream gracefully. I would be kinder to the count if he came as a supplicant, but he wants to be interesting, mysterious -- drops words that I do not hear, or pretend not to hear. I know that nothing is more wounding than a lost word. Maman and everyone tell me they are in love with me. I cannot believe it, because it seems to me I am not fine enough to be loved. I deny it, because if the count changes
[right corner of page torn away: his mind, I shall be humili-... It rains, it rains heavi-... prepares to return. At... I was getting into the carriage; Gambart arrives and full of joy I stay with him. I was told in the evening that... the Pole was furious and did not hide it the whole length of the road.]
Unfortunately Gambart drags his entourage behind him: Kirsh, the Godefroy woman, the Malezieux couple, and the singer Bouhy. They were not arriving; I hoped they would not come, frightened by the rain -- but they came, just as we were about to leave.
Kirsh and the other man do not go into the grotto. I told Gambart about the scene of despair. "This time we shall go to the very end; it is [most] interesting there. We shall go further [in] your company," he said.
I walk behind him, and a little further back follow Body, the Malezieux woman, Godefroy. Paul Malezieux took fright and turned back at the very entrance.
We descend the terrible ladder; it is only here that [Left corner of page torn away: ...are the best... ? They are the... of locomotives] because they take in dirty water and give it back as smoke -- the marvels begin, the impossible passages where one climbs on all fours, squeezed on both sides. The descents where on one side there is a wall of rock, on the other the river -- narrow, steep, black, and slippery. But I also see caverns of immense height where stalactites form bizarre figures: now the Virgin and Child, an old man with a long beard; now a repentant Magdalene, an entire church organ; now a palm tree, an immense field of flowers, extraordinary leaves, hanging linen, bed curtains. The leaves and curtains are diaphanous, and I stopped to see the guide's light illuminate these marvels. Stairways, rocks that seem to touch the ceilings hung with points like frozen water at the edges of roofs in winter, glittering like diamonds.
Now one was at the summit of a mountain and now at the bottom of a precipice that I gazed down upon from the height of that mountain.
The people behind us let out endless Oh's and Ah's.
I walk on thus to the very end, admiring, marvelling, and slipping.
At one point I felt myself slipping, about to fall; there was nothing to catch hold of, and screaming would be foolish -- so with the greatest composure in the world, I let myself sit down, thereby preventing my fall into the water. Another time my umbrella nearly rolled into the river.
The grotto ends at a lake, not wide but deep; we threw stones into it. And does it even end? By taking a boat one could continue, but we had none. We turn back, and it does not feel like it. I was very surprised to find myself once more above the famous ladder without having climbed back up it. The fact is that we descended and then climbed back up by another path without noticing.
Unfortunately I cannot describe this grotto well; it would give me such pleasure, later, to find an accurate description of what I saw. I know that I admired a great deal, but I am sure there are far more marvellous grottos in the vicinity alone, to say nothing of other countries, where there are marvels beside which the grotto here would seem a mere nothing.
Besides, it is to humiliate sovereign works to impose our approbation upon them.
I walk with Gambart and Body despite a light rain. I am wet and muddy. After climbing and descending a mountain that I had only looked at before -- only looked at -- we found the carriages again. Gambart drives; Body sits in front, the singer behind.
The return was admirable. In a village, Gambart pulled a white blanket from a bed and a carpet from the floor. They gave the carpet to the others, and wrapped the blanket around Gambart and me, pinning it with pins. My little parasol did not protect my hat, which under the rain began to take all sorts of shapes.
I laughed and admired old Gambart's intrepidity. He laughed too and compared us to "Paul et Virginie."
I return in a dreadful state, wet and muddy. Scarcely have I undressed in the salon when there is a knock -- it is the Greek. I flee, but return dressed in one of Maman's frocks. But instead of going to bed, of resting, I change my linen, put on the satin bar-strap boots, the grey dress, the black hat, and go to the Redoute with Maman and Dina.
I told, and the others told, of the marvels I performed, and I regarded myself with astonishment. I danced.
The baron does not approach, does not ask me to dance; I am vexed -- as anyone would be.
In truth, my mother, Dina, and I have nothing. My mother is a woman of wit and experience, still very beautiful, but in society conversation she is a zero. She understands nothing of what the men say to her, does not hear half the time. Dina is stupid [Above: is not stupid at all] -- and I am too young. In truth, there are three people who contribute nothing.
I know the theory admirably -- better than anyone. Above all, I know how to describe how one should be and what one should do. But I do not know whether I could practise my fine principles.
Maman stays with the Greek -- poor Greek; he speaks in vain. My mother is a rock; she understands nothing.
I stay on the balcony, where Dina comes to join me. She begins by saying:
-- How glad I am that people think I am in love with Gericke...
-- Halt there, my dear! You wish to deflect suspicion by spreading the rumour yourself that people say you are in love with this gentleman. I know that trick; I know everything. No nonsense with me. You know?
However, I spoke of Gericke with her because it pleases her. This boy pleases her; she is dreamy, hides her face in her hands, assumes drooping airs. All the symptoms of love -- she has them. I believe it is for the first time.
Gericke for a week has changed a great deal, and since Basilevitch's departure or Maman's scolding, he avoids us. Walitsky says he has become like a toque -- he runs, lowers his eyes.
Before, he almost never looked one in the eyes, and now it is worse still. He came up once this evening -- or rather he was called -- then stayed with ladies from his table d'hote. Maman thinks she offended him, but truly it was necessary.
I am quite vexed, besides, that we have lost him.
I received a charming reply from Berthe.
H[is] G[race] t[he] D[uke] o[f] H[amilton]

Notes

In English in the original. ↩
In English in the original. ↩