Sunday, 5 May 1878

I have been at the atelier seven months now. I went back to the Exhibition with Anna Nordgren. We went through everything very cursorily, except the paintings, which alone interested us.
I was very surprised by Bonnat’s portrait of Don Carlos. Badly drawn, false in tone, and a poor likeness.
As for the famous portrait of M. Thiers, I had not seen it at the Salon; I saw it today for the first time, but I am sure it has darkened. It is Carolus-Duran I prefer for vitality, and Bonnat for mastery.
Bonnat’s hands are marvels. Here is my verdict:
Truly good painting must be a trompe-l’œil — something any intelligent person can appreciate. Now, if we step beyond perfect painting, one must be a connoisseur to find its qualities and its faults. Objects or figures rendered smaller than life always distress me. When it is bad, I don’t trouble myself; but when it is good, it is a pity. The rest I shall say nothing about — one would have to plunge into the labyrinth of all the rubbish and all the inanities being produced, and it is not worth the effort.
Yorke walks with Dina.
M. d’Alt, then M. Franceschi.
I am rather displeased with Cassagnac — I have invested too much effort and he does not pay me back in kind.
All these foreign princes lend a particular brilliance to Paris, and all this noise and all this brilliance penetrate despite everything into my room and shine upon my paint boxes, my books, my skeleton, my photographs — with such insolence, such mischief!.. that they plunge me into despair. Time passes!!!
I cannot write two words without stopping — and then everything becomes chaos, rage, tears!!! Fury.

Notes

The 1878 Exposition Universelle in Paris, a major world’s fair. ↩