Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Tuesday, 24 August 1875

The morning is spent exasperating me, teasing me.
At dinner they serve things with onion, and I nearly weep because of that dreadful smell.
I was furious to see all those nauseating Germans stuffing themselves with smoked tongue and potatoes smothered in onion! Fie! Fie! Fie!
Just imagine their breath — fie! fie! fie! fie! fie!
Back from Schwalbach — I go there every day — back, I said, yes, back — I have supper and after supper become so gay that it is perfectly delightful. I do not know where this gaiety comes from; I have drunk nothing; I love to be like this, everything smiles at me. I began with dark anxieties about our arrangements in Florence and I end with bursts of joy and a serenity without equal.
Everything seems already done or destined to be done according to my wishes — the carriages, the horses, the dresses. In a word, everything for this winter.
This winter I make my entry into society — into that society which I adore, which I implore urgently on bended knee, for it is my life, my happiness. I make my entry into society, I begin to live and to strive to realise my dreams. To become famous — I am already known to a great many people.
I look at myself in the mirror and I see that I am pretty. I am pretty, I am pretty — what more do I need; can I not accomplish everything with that? My God, in giving me this little beauty (I say "little" out of modesty — it is still too much coming from You, my God), You give me more than anything else!
I feel beautiful — it seems to me that everything will succeed for me, everything smiles at me, and I am happy, happy, happy!
I picture those horses, flinging their legs forward like a locomotive its wings, and my heart beats and vox faucibus exit. Il fiato mi manca!
Those horses seem to me the winged serpents of Neptune's chariot — I lift my hair from my forehead as if to picture it more vividly.
Luxury, wealth drive me to delirium — I feel completely changed, I am carried away and speak and gesticulate like someone at the theatre. Before, I did not understand this and used to mock actors and think them affected, unnatural.
My hand is small and white and tapering, my arm white and rounded!
I am making my entry into society — I am sixteen! My heart beats and my breath fails me. I sing, I want to do wild things!
I want to leave at once, go to Paris and quickly have my chariot and my winged dragons! This takes my breath away — my God!

Notes

In Latin in the original. From Virgil's Aeneid (II.774): vox faucibus haesit — "the voice stuck in my throat." Marie misquotes slightly (exit for haesit), suggesting she is writing from memory. ↩
In Italian in the original. "My breath fails me!" — an operatic expression of emotional overwhelm. ↩
In classical mythology, Neptune (Poseidon) was god of horses as well as the sea. His chariot was drawn by sea-horses or sea-serpents. Marie's vision conflates the power of horses with mythological grandeur. ↩
Marie was born 23 November 1858 — she was in fact fifteen years old at this point, not sixteen. She may be anticipating her birthday in November, or simply rounding. ↩