Friday, 9 November 1877

Poor Schaeppi in bed! No work, no study — and what expenses!
Poor des Perrières — I find him on my return at ten o'clock from the studio. He is saying his farewells; he is leaving for Nice and then for good, I know not where.
And to think that I left at a quarter past eleven so as to be punctual when Monsieur Robert-Fleury comes to the studio tomorrow — and to have a better complexion should Popaul come to dinner with us tomorrow.
If I went back to the drawing room... no. I should be annoyed with myself tomorrow. It is like — for instance, I should be very happy to go and spend the carnival in Italy, but I should weep so afterwards for that time lost. For after pleasure nothing remains — ungrateful as one is! — and one says to oneself that one could have done without it.
With what shall I return to Italy? With my dresses! For shame! I should return there — and this time to stay — with real talent. At least then there would be something to boast about... before Melissano!
At times... I think that my talent — mark the grand word — I shall be able to produce fine portraits but shall pass like so many others... I think this at times, that is to say, I ask myself whether it is so.
No. I shall have more than that. There are so many painters, yes — but so few masters. Among the moderns, none. No, I feel in myself a real strength, and if one could say it without offending God I should say: I am sure of myself.
There are so many, no doubt — but at the same time there are very few. If one is mediocre one is lost in the crowd, for one is like all the others; but if one is truly great, the multitude only serves you as a platform — like the mountain of broken pots near Rome.

Notes

Marie refers to Monte Testaccio, a hill near Rome formed from millions of discarded Roman amphorae sherds.