Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Tuesday, 16 October 1877

Monsieur Robert-Fleury came in the afternoon and gave me particular attention.
As usual I spent the entire day at the studio. From nine to twelve — I cannot yet manage to arrive at eight precisely. At noon I leave, have luncheon, and return at twenty past one until five. And in the evening from eight to ten. That gives me nine hours per day. It does not fatigue me in the least; if it were physically possible to do more I should do more. There are people who call this working — I assure you that for me it is play, and I say it without boasting. Nine hours is so little — and to think that I shall not be able to do it every day because it is a long way from the Champs-Élysées to the rue Vivienne, and then because often no one will accompany me in the evening, which means I arrive home at half past ten, and by the time I fall asleep it is midnight, and the next day I lose an hour. In any case, by doing the regular sessions from eight to noon and from one to five, I should have eight hours.
In winter it grows dark at four. Well — then I shall certainly come in the evenings. We always have a coupé in the morning and the landau for the rest of the day. You see, the thing is to accomplish in one year the work of three. And as I go fast, these three years compressed into one will represent six years at minimum of an ordinary intelligence. I am talking like those imbeciles who say: what another would do in two years, she will do in six months. Nothing could be more false. It is not a question of speed — at that rate one would need only to put in the time. No doubt with patience one arrives at a certain result — but what I shall produce in one or two years, the Danish one will never produce.
When I set about correcting human errors, I become muddled and irritated because I never have time to finish a sentence once begun.
In short — if I had begun three years ago I might have been content with six hours a day, but now I need nine, ten, twelve — as many as possible. Certainly even had I begun three years ago, it would be better to work as much as possible — but what is past... enough.
Gordigiani told me he worked twelve hours a day.
Of twenty-four hours, let us take seven for sleep, two for undressing, praying, washing one's hands at various intervals, dressing, doing one's hair, all of that — and two hours for eating and breathing a little. That makes eleven. It is true — thirteen remain. Yes, but the journeys: they take me an hour and a quarter.
Well yes — I lose about three hours. When I work at home I shall lose them no more. And then... and then if there are people to see, the promenade, the theatre! We shall endeavour to avoid all of that, for at the degree to which I can now enjoy such things, they are nothing but a nuisance.
I have counted an hour and a quarter by carriage, without the evening; with the evening it is nearly two hours. That is what it takes to make six journeys between number 71 Champs-Élysées and number 36, rue Vivienne.