1876-12-02-07

Friday, 2 December 1876

We arrived that evening. I was content, for fate had granted us two men from Antibes who took us for Russians on their first journey and asked the most naïve questions. M. and Mme Anitchkoff and their children, together with my aunt, Walitsky, and Trifon, were waiting for us. Those excellent Anitchkoffs. They are tedious to death, but I adore them. There were never people more honest and upright, more loving and more devoted.
During dinner General Bibi appeared — a charming man who laughs and amuses himself over everything like a child. I brought him cigarettes, each one stamped with his name. The delicate attention delights him. Walitsky, my aunt, and Barnola will have the same gift. I am once again in my blue paradise. Ah! what a pity... It is so lovely here and my eyes rest upon graceful, beautiful things... and I must leave!!
Going down to the garden I found Pelikan with his doctor Broussais, Ivanoff the eye-doctor of my grandfather, General Wolf, and Bihovetz, and then the Anitchkoffs. I had to show myself and gratify my mothers who cannot contain their pleasure at seeing me filled out. Imagine that happiness. But I abandoned them all to visit my women of the rue de France. What a welcome! I was told of marriages, deaths, births. I asked how business was. Badly, they replied.
And off I went. When they learned I had been to the Chamber, they drew back with great respect and then pressed round me. And then, fist on hip, I made them a speech interlaced with oaths and Nicois exclamations, showing them the republicans with their hands in the people's gold: Like my hands in this rice! — and I plunged my fist into a sack of rice.
— Why, of course — what are the rich for? To help the poor! I understand nothing of commerce, you understand nothing of painting. Everyone cannot govern. The carpenter Cera does his work but he is not capable of writing a law, just as the Emperor could not make the most modest snuff-box. And trade is bad, and the foreigners no longer come. Good heavens — people are not going to risk their heads and their fortunes! That is only a small sample. Certainly there is no merit in converting women who know nothing and care about nothing, by explaining complicated matters through simple examples — but my foolish vanity was tickled when I heard them murmuring in Nicois: It is true, but it really is true! If that were a man one would make him a king.
But what flatters me far more is having brought tears to these women's eyes by telling them of the misfortunes of Empress Eugénie — and especially one saying of hers at the bedside of a dying soldier in hospital during an epidemic. I had tears in my own eyes.
After so long an absence the sky of Nice transports me and I feel myself leap up breathing this pure air, looking at this transparent sky. The sea just silvered by a hidden sun — cloudless, a soft warm grey — the brilliant verdure... How beautiful it is, and how good it would be to live in this paradise.
I wore a white dress with a panel on the bodice embroidered with a sphinx in antique colours on gold. Similar panels at the pockets and a matching braid tied about the waist. A Rembrandt hat with a long feather — not like English hats nor those one always sees, those hideous caricatures. And a face as fresh and as pretty as mine perhaps. At least they will envy me in secret, all those ladies in their vulgar and gaudy dresses, and all those girls in their gaudy, ungainly simple frocks while being too much the great lady. Fie! The horrors. I am trivial.
Well, truly the family has its charm. Cards were played, we laughed, we had tea. And I felt a warmth of well-being among my own people, surrounded by my dear dogs.
For a moment I felt some vanity in speaking of serious things with the old men... but after all they are obscure old men — what are they to me? I have such a fear of remaining in Nice that it is driving me mad. It seems to me that this winter will again be wasted and I shall do nothing! They are taking from me the means to work! This is murder, this is infamy!!! Bihovetz sent me a large basket of flowers and this evening Maman watered it to preserve them... Well, these little nothings drive me out of my mind. This affectation of bourgeois ways fills me with despair! Ah! Divine mercy. Ah! By the God of heaven I assure you I am not joking!
I came back from the pavilion in an enchanting moonlight illuminating my roses and my magnolias... That poor garden which has never given me anything but sad thoughts and dreadful vexations. I went up to my room with wet eyes and sad — very sad.

Saturday, 3 December 1876

— We shall find teachers, she told me; we shall find everything you wish, and I will sit as your model — only stay. From our house she went to the Consul's. She wants to receive again as she did eight years ago. She might perhaps... but it is no use — I must study in earnest. Oh, misery! I went with my aunt to pay the bills.
The memory of Rome makes me swoon... but I do not want to return there as I did last winter... no, no... that would be dreadful. Let us try Paris... Oh, Rome! Would that I could see it again — or else die here. I hold my breath and stretch out as though I wished to extend myself all the way to Rome. Mme Souvoroff is happy — she! People slander her as they do no one else, and they greet her and seek her out more than anyone.
— With your person, your expenditure, and your life, you ought to hold Nice like this — and instead... in your place I would not stay twenty-four hours! Such are the words of Mouzay. What sighs!

Sunday, 4 December 1876

Ricardo lunched here and I gave him the cigarettes, each one stamped with his name. Oh, what a life! It is death. Do nothing, see no one! Hidden, shut in, alone! For sole diversion the changing sky. Yesterday it was clear and the moon shone like a pale sun; this evening it is covered with great torn black clouds that part to reveal the clear bright patches as yesterday... I make these observations while crossing the garden from the pavilion to my room. In Paris one has none of this air, this verdure, and the scented rain of this night.

Monday, 5 December 1876

Our conversations are revolting; I hate him and I hate myself, for it is I who made him. As diversion, always the Anitchkoffs or the General. Walitsky and my aunt spent the evening persuading me that my calculations were useless, that Alexandre would steal everything, and that we might as well beat our heads against the wall.
I have written thirty letters. One in reply to my father, and this one is quite adroit. I make a show of indignation at the Nice gossip — for they say he made me pay when I went to see him. At my age, with my education, my looks, and my character, I am shut in as in a prison. Worse! I am an outcast from society. The Howard girls speak of me with great interest and a great deal of compassion!! It seems to me that I am dying...
I have at last finished La Jeunesse du roi Henri by Ponson du Terrail — all eight volumes. Ah! If only I had read it sooner! What an instructive book! How well I would have conducted myself had I understood the Monk's very frequent allusions to La Jeunesse du roi Henri. He spoke of it enough — and I knew nothing. It is the complete curriculum of his education, and even his French was learned from this book. O great Ponson!

Tuesday, 6 December 1876

All day I was as I was the day I went to Wartel's. I was preparing myself for this evening — the opera — a first performance of Un ballo in maschera. I have not been out since my return and no one has seen me. There are days when everything succeeds. My hair arranged itself as if of its own accord into a ravishing antique head such as one sees on Greek statues — abundant hair held by a gold fillet, the nape bare, veiled only by a few small natural curls. A pearl necklace, and a dress with no seam and yet clinging and draped like a statue — which inconvenienced me a little on account of my perfect and so firm a figure that no dress can disguise it. Needless to say the dress has no trimming, not even a hem; it is simply frayed at the edge, like a beggar's.
My aunt, Dina, and I — directly opposite Emile with Belle-de-jour and two other fops. I was pleased with myself this evening — and so, I think, was the house. I wanted to look superb for Emile. I have changed considerably in a year and a half. I have grown taller, I have become more of a woman. House full; as friends, Princess Souvoroff and Mme de Wykersloovth; as visitors, Bibi, Galula, and our banker Gilly, who greet me from their stalls below our box. As for the lions — I did not look at them...
Note the act in Un ballo in maschera where the Governor and Amelia meet in the forest. Renato the husband appears, and not recognising his wife begs the Governor to flee, for bandits may arrive at any moment.
Audiffret is still the most handsome and the most elegant lord of the good town of Nice. He is so handsome that, were I to remain here, I might be capable of occupying myself with him again. For the moment I pay no attention to him; it is my aunt who watches him and takes pleasure in noting paleness or blushing... this good soul is persuaded that the ardent young lord nurses a hidden passion for me. But why should he hide it?
At the exit, while the General was looking for our carriage, I several times turned my back on Belle-de-jour, who, no doubt wishing to honour me with a greeting, was trying to catch my face. Having definitively shown him my back — which is quite as handsome as my front, incidentally, and was turned to the wall — he greeted my aunt and came to speak to me; at that moment Bihovetz arrived and I had the satisfaction of abruptly leaving the dogs'-inspector and Galula. How did I find the courage to show myself in a town where we are so disparaged and where so many affronts have been done to us? Decidedly only Emile can inspire me; when I see him I laugh, and when I laugh at him I compose... king tomorrow. Going home I sang refrains from last year.
— How gay we were then! said the General.
— Ah! yes, I replied. [Note: article on Cardinal Antonelli — see pp. 222–224]

Wednesday, 7 December 1876

We returned the call on Mme Souvoroff and went to Mme de Ballore's and Mme de Wykersloovth's, who had come to us. Jeanne is at present with her frightful husband and his mother the Princesse de la Trémoille. For the first time I am a godmother. Bihovetz is the godfather. The child is the daughter of a Russian woman married to a Black man. The little girl is dark; the mother is to be a chambermaid to Maman. I had to kiss Bihovetz — it is the custom. Maman is vexed by it and does nothing but exclaim and feign indignation while laughing. Ah! if she knew...

Notes

Empress Eugénie (1826–1920) — wife of Napoleon III, exiled after the fall of the Second Empire in 1870; by 1876 she lived in England.
La Jeunesse du roi Henri — an eight-volume historical romance by Pierre Alexis Ponson du Terrail (1829–1871), set during the French Wars of Religion and the reign of Henri IV; one of the most popular serialised novels of its era.
Un ballo in maschera — opera by Giuseppe Verdi (1859); the plot turns on a masked ball, political conspiracy, and a love triangle.
Belle-de-jour — lit. "day flower," a convolvulus that blooms only in daylight and wilts by evening; Marie uses it as a contemptuous nickname for an ephemeral, vain man.
The Trémoille — one of the oldest noble families of France, with continuous history from the medieval period.