Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff

Watching Lise run in the garden I felt a great longing to have Alexandrine. Lise is twelve years old; the other will be the same age in ten years. I would bring her up as no one in the world could — she would speak Latin as easily as French and know all books by heart, arranged chronologically, the other classifications revealing themselves afterwards; she would play harp and piano, know all the useful languages; I would take her everywhere and kindle her passion for the arts and beautiful things, and have her study whichever art drew her most strongly. I would have her qualify as a bachelière ès sciences et lettres27 — not from pedantry but because it would do well in society: people would speak of it, they would respect her, she would move among scholars, poets and artists who would sing of her in their books and place her in their paintings. She would have boundless wit (no chances are against that), would be beautiful — more than probable — good and generous, for I would instil all this in her. I would make of her a phoenix, a celebrity, a marvel — and it would be all the more selfless since nothing would come back to me. I would make her, in short, what I might have been myself, had I been able to educate myself from birth.

# Vendredi 1er juin 1877

And I would love her more than my own daughter — I don't know why, because it would please me that people would say... I don't know what... that I love her out of... self-abnegation, devotion, who knows what. My role would be original and admirable — above all in the eyes of the father. Had she been my own daughter, I would fear imposing on her gratitude, boring her, putting myself forward... giving the impression of soliciting something. My daughter would be half of myself — and I am so ashamed, so scrupulous, so timid on my own behalf. I would despise myself bitterly if I had to beg for affection — for myself or for her... whereas here... I do it on a whim, and him — I don't even know him.

Et je l'aimerais plus que *ma* propre fille, je ne sais pourquoi, parce qu'il me plairait qu'on dit... je ne sais quoi, que je l'aime par... abnégation, par dévouement par... que sais-je. Mon rôle serait original et admirable surtout vis-à-vis du père. Si ça avait été ma fille je craindrais de m'imposer à sa reconnaissance, de l'ennuyer, de me faire valoir... d'avoir l'air de solliciter quelque chose. Ma fille serait la moitié de moi-même, or je suis si honteuse, si scrupuleuse, si timide pour moi-même. Je me haïrais si fort si je devais demander de l'affection pour moi ou pour elle... tandis qu'ici... je le fais par caprice, et lui, je ne le connais pas.

Dreams...

Rêves...

Today a Monsieur Savitch called — my aunt's cousin through the Romanoffs; he spent the winter in Nice and came often. He has made his fortune in England and, having arrived at the age of fifty-five, is determined to marry at all costs. He would have liked my aunt, but she cannot marry on account of me; so they are merely friends. For the good monsieur, as for Collignon, it is a passing fancy.

Aujourd'hui a été un Monsieur Savitch, cousin de ma tante par les Romanoff, il a passé l'hiver à Nice et venait souvent. Il s'est enrichi en Angleterre et arrivé à l'âge de cinquante-cinq ans, désire se marier à toute force. Il aurait voulu de ma tante mais elle ne peut pas se marier à cause de moi, aussi ils ne sont qu'amis; chez le bon monsieur comme chez Collignon, c'est une toquade.

Who would believe me capable of the life I lead. Always alone in my room — reading, painting, writing, playing. I come downstairs only for meals, and find pleasure only in my own company!

Qui me croirait capable de la vie que je mène. Toujours seule chez moi, lisant, peignant, écrivant, jouant. Je ne descends que pour les repas et ne jouis que dans ma propre société !

It is not happiness — but it is what prepares happiness; one perfects oneself in order to have the successes of a woman, and above all other kinds of success. I have set my mind on becoming famous, and I shall succeed.

Ce n'est pas le bonheur mais c'est ce qui le prépare, on se perfectionne pour avoir des succès de femme et surtout d'autres. Je me suis mis dans la tête de devenir célèbre et j'y arriverai.

How can anyone live as the people downstairs do — my people?! What do they talk about, what do they think about? Servants, petty arrangements of money and dresses. Oh — all of it in miniature: the winnings from Monaco, what Mme Kondareff said, the trick Mme Bouldokoff played on the general; the last rubber of whist with M. Anitchkoff, Mme Anitchkoff's latest scene, and... who knows what else. And above all about me — about my welfare, which they are quite happy to forget, that is to say to leave sleeping when I don't raise it myself.

Comment peut-on vivre comme les gens d'en bas, les miens ?! De quoi parlent-ils, à quoi pensent-ils ? Aux domestiques, aux petits arrangements d'argent et de robes. Oh ! tout cela en petit, aux gains de Monaco, à ce qu'a dit Mme Kondareff, et au tour joué au général par Mme Bouldokoff; au dernier whist avec M. Anitchkoff, à la dernière sortie de Mme Anitchkoff, à... est-ce que je sais ? Et surtout à moi, à mon bien-être, qu'ils sont heureux d'oublier, c'est-à-dire de laisser dormir quand je n'en parle pas.

Quickly to Paris! I work but make no progress — I need masters.

Vite à Paris ! Je travaille mais je n'avance pas, il me faut des maîtres.

Bijou has left Vienna.

Bijou a quitté Vienne.

How my heart, how my heart aches! (Marlborough)28

Que mon cœur, que mon cœur a de peine ! (Malborough)

In fact, I don't think about it. He is making his grand tour, going to regenerate himself — but nothing troubles me, for the reasons given on page 173.

Au fait, je n'y pense pas. Il fait son grand tour, il va se régénérer mais rien ne m'inquiète pour les raisons données à page 173.

Notes

A bachelière ès sciences et lettres — a female graduate in the sciences and letters — was an exceedingly rare distinction for women in 1877.
A quotation from the French folk song "Marlborough s'en va-t-en guerre" (Marlborough Goes to War), a popular tune since at least the 18th century.