Wednesday, 6 February 1878

Asleep at half past three, up at eight, at work by nine.
Tired — and I shall have to redo my morning drawing.
Robert-Fleury came to correct us in the evening.
Maman and Dina are at Mme Mouzay’s.
They say the Prince de Bourbon has suddenly departed for Brazil. It is all the same to me — I had no use for him.
Monsieur Jamin, a student from downstairs, twenty-three years old, who has been studying for three years, who entered the competition loge last year and won several medals at the École, won yet another medal yesterday.
Half our atelier went to see the exhibition from this competition. It was so funny — these young men stared at us, followed us, and were quite surprised to see me step into a coupé with Schaeppi.
This Jamin — he really does have talent. I have never seen him, but he interests me as a person of worth — not as a man, of course.
I have a mind to launch him.
Cassagnac must have his portrait painted; a well-known painter costs dearly, and an unknown one... would do it for nothing, but if it goes wrong Popaul is the loser and is left with a bad portrait. Since the time when I can speak on my own behalf is still far off, and Popaul keeps getting fatter, I would rather it were this M. Jamin than someone else — rather than Amélie, who has had someone ask him for it... but that — never in my life.
How tiresome, how irritating, how sad not to be able to make my debut with this portrait.
I hope — I so long — for a year to pass, a year or eighteen months; at the end of that time I suppose I shall be capable of painting whatever I wish.
The men, who have the École with all its resources... and we! Misery!! Oh well.
Oh! My God, if only I had begun even two years ago!! It drives me mad.

Notes

“Mounted to the loge”: entered the enclosed competition studios at the École des Beaux-Arts, prerequisite for Prix de Rome candidates. Women were not admitted. ↩