Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Sunday, 9 June 1878

G.E. Haussmann —
— but M. Turquan, a clerk at the Ministry of the Interior and reserve officer of the 11th Artillery Regiment, whom I met at the Gavinis', arrives at half past ten and brings me a ticket he went to fetch at Versailles this very morning.
So off I go with Maman to buy a wig and spectacles in the faubourg Saint-Honoré. We are on our way out when a telegram arrives signed Fortuné — it is Chocolat, who went to Versailles with Rosalie; both of them found places in the public gallery. We had barely purchased the disguise accessories and I had already got back into the carriage when I see coming towards me — who but Cassagnac! I greet him very dryly; instead of passing he stops and comes to talk to us as though he were not the last word in impolite behaviour. One can see he is getting married, so gay does he look. In a few days he is to appear before the assizes for an article — but the fellow is an old hand at this; he laughs it off and wants to show us the documents; only, at the mere sight of his briefcase the coachman and the passers-by were all eyes, and he had to put it away. A pity — that unpacking of dossiers on the seat of a cab had its charm. A woman passes; our man says he knew her three years ago and pretends to want to flee from her by getting into the carriage with us. So I say foolish things to him, mocking the number of his conquests and regretting that the distance from Bysterweld's shop to 67, avenue de l'Alma is so short. I say all sorts of things that might have been true... but that in short sound like teasing.
Nor did I omit to tell him that he was diminished and faded, and that his negligence deserved only my contempt, and that my feet were no longer his to admire and I would never show them to him again, and that I detested useless people.
"Your beauty is of no use to me since I do not see you, beneficent sun; as for your warmth, it makes itself not at all felt. I do without you, thank God — I have five tickets." All of this [words blotted: laughing] so that [sentence unfinished]
I detest it when people tell you they have just come from the country and are going back there — it is a lie, and rather insulting at that.
So — that wretch leaves us at our door; I do not lunch, and go to the station with my aunt. There again Popaul — he
asks to ride in the same carriage and to bring along some deputies — there are five, with Cassagnac as sixth — among them Messrs de Bouville, Vinay, and the Comte d'Espeuilles, who was invalidated at five o'clock that evening.
[Written across the page: I return his greeting and read my newspaper without troubling myself further. I do not wish to be agreeable with a man who has been rude. And in the carriage I listened to the gentlemen without talking much.]
When I am with Cassagnac it seems to me that men look at me in a particular way, and far from being annoyed by it I bloom. All at once, in the middle of the conversation, he pulls a pile of tickets from his pocket.
— I went to fetch them from my father's and took these from him.
I had told him that morning that his father had eight. It was Gavini who had told me so the day before. As for that wretch Paul, he maintains I am mad and that I always write to him on the very day itself, so that he can never get anything for me. This time, thank God, I did not write to him, and I shall never write to him again.
My aunt takes two tickets from the deputies' box and gives him the one we had.
— Do not give away the others, aunt — we have people to place; we shall take M. de Cassagnac's tickets for ourselves and give the others away.
Here is the account of the session from the Journal Officiel — [missing]
It was amusing and we were well placed. As for Cassagnac — no doubt pleased to have escaped today — he appeared in a wild gaiety. Towards the middle of the afternoon I moved into a corner because there was a pretty woman near me and I did not know exactly whom people were looking at.
In my corner I was looked at too.
I ought not to have spoken to that dog of a man at all — but I preferred to mock him, and I mocked him the whole time; to be sure, he knows how to reply. My aunt is delighted and vexed. She cannot bear him to look at any woman but me. Poor aunt.
As for me, I returned home tired and Bonapartist — though opposing [Cassagnac]. Cassagnac was my delight the whole day, and watching him I was thinking: can one help being Bonapartist! That was at Versailles. It is another matter in Paris.
If he never comes, it is because I do not interest him — while amusing him when he sees me — and if I do not interest him, what the devil do you want me to do with him?..
I do not know whether I was right to say... he was saying to our deputies that
these ladies, being from a sensible country, must find the way things are done in France very odd — and I said: not at all, this system of perpetual ventilation quite pleases me. In fact it is nothing extraordinary.
How sad it is that we do not go about in society in Paris... That alone would have an influence on the man who resembles me so closely. I must manage, by October (for the recess is coming), to attend the Chamber from the diplomatic box.
If Princess Troubetzkoy were to return I might come to know her through the Boyds... Ah! How maddening all this is. No matter — this first success gives me confidence in myself, for after all it is thanks to me that I went to Versailles. How maddening all this is! How utterly maddening it all is... yes, I know — because of Cassagnac — but all this could be arranged if he were not getting married. But if he were to marry, all this becomes useless; I have nothing to do with him — [words blotted: which is vexing] — I would do my painting.
You remember that I was to have been a Mme Récamier two years ago — well, it is on account of that that I want to recover my position. If I had made his acquaintance this winter I should have nothing to worry about; there would be none of these... prior obligations.
The journey was curious — listening to them I could predict more or less in advance the effects and the interruptions; and Cassagnac telling them his ideas, and then: — come, don't take that from me, that would not be honest.
These men amuse themselves prodigiously. Playing at France, at laws, at governments — by Jove! That is no mean folly.
I feel the need to lay before you the current situation and a sketch of my plans or intentions, so as not to have to return to it... I know nothing. Yes — it must be done.
There is, above all and despite all, painting. And then:
there is Paul de Cassagnac, who is a celebrated man and who was supposed to lead me into politics — which he has not done at all, in part because we know no one and are not in a position. Besides, the fellow amuses me greatly and might have become (I believe at moments) something serious. But owing to various circumstances he has remained a friend, and that is where the trouble begins; I was content with friendship — and now there is not even that. This superior being, so full of faults [cancelled words: and perhaps of vices for the vulgar], this being who is so like me, finds nothing to attach him to me and
on top of that finds another woman he wants to marry! Let us not forget to point out that there is nothing of the past in any of this. I am not climbing on a stool to cry to the stars that my whole life will be spent taking revenge. Revenge for everything will come in its time.
[Written across the page: The important thing is to try that there be as few revenges to take as possible. That is the essential point. That is the great matter. That is the salvation of my self-esteem.]
I have become frightfully sensible and count (?) on no one but myself. I no longer seek chimerical things, because they come of their own accord if they come at all; what one can bring about consists of fairly simple things, and to that I shall address myself without concealing it or being ashamed of it. I shall go to the diplomatic gallery, I assure you; furthermore I shall try to establish a salon... and I shall even bring people from our embassy there, very quietly. When one counts only on oneself one can often be sure of what one is doing.
Cassagnac feels himself guilty but does not feel any desire to repair his crimes. That is what offends me greatly. One might say that up to now nothing has accumulated in my life but things of which I ought to take revenge... it is true, up to this winter. There is nothing for it but to settle the old debts; making no new ones, it will be possible. For the present we are speaking of Cassagnac, who interests me; the others are altogether past and I don't care about them — so there it is! If Cassagnac marries, it will be a great pity — amen. As for self-esteem, there have been only vague fancies, Mouzay's and mine — but mine in secret [Crossed out: ostensibly] — I always told that woman it was nonsense... Judic sang yesterday at the kermesse a little song in which the verses end with the words: c'est bête, c'est bête, mais... c'est bien bon! — it goes round and round in my head. Let us resume. If he does not marry, there are no revenges, no vengeances, none of these words I have overused and which disgust me. There will simply be my campaign to win him to my friendship by every means. [Cancelled words: There, I believe, is approximately the whole plan of my provisional existence.] I have hidden nothing; I shall have nothing to explain to you. It is the sum of everything — remember it and leave me in peace. If I speak to you of Cassagnac after seeing him, take it simply; do not pick a quarrel with me. I am too proud to run after those who do not run after me. I have always pursued those who cared little for me and abandoned those who loved me; forgetting that there were those who loved me, I thought only of the others, and found myself miserable
having had no knowledge of the system of compensation. Now it is different, and this change is natural, having come gradually and being reasoned. That is why I beg you to believe it is not an imaginary and sudden change. [Bottom of page left blank]
So I am vexed at being unable to show Cassagnac that we are very chic. Otherwise I should content myself with my work — but this complication makes our position particularly disagreeable. Cassagnac has not changed; he has always been the same towards us. What makes me think he is less agreeable is that it is not increasing in warmth — and at this rate, frankly, this friendship ought at least to go crescendo.
And the more he s'estrange — as the Queen of Navarre used to say — the more he distances himself from me, the more agreeable it would be to show myself... very chic in every respect; not to kindle a passion — nonsense! — but for a... sentiment quite natural and comprehensible that has nothing to do with love.
Here, more or less, is the whole plan of a provisional existence. But enough — you know enough. Amen.
Cassagnac has a back and legs! My goodness — it is not proper for a jeune premier... sitting next to each other in the train we were cramped together, it was warm... it is foolish... but it is rather nice. Oh! For shame.
But that M. Turquan — what kindness! It is truly extraordinary.
The Comte de Jobal has just left. Old paralytic. What charm. Mme Gavini was to come — it is past five o'clock; I am anxious about tomorrow's tickets. In any case I shall have some as I did yesterday by sending Rosalie and Chocolat; oh! but this woman who does not come...
To calm myself I sing "la mélodie de Caen" — "Si j'étais reine au beau pays de France!" A charming, quite old melody of perfect feeling — provided one does not laugh: no, I love these old songs and it is so foolish to mock them. Read it instead — it is a gem.
Si j'étais reine au beau pays de France
Avec bonheur je donnerais mon sceptre
Et ma position, sceptre et ma puissance
Contre ton coeur.
C'est pour que sur moi, ton doux regard s'incline
Même un seul jour
Je donnerais mon blanc manteau d'hermine
Avec ma cour.
Si Dieu m'offrait la couronne étoilée
Des chérubins
Les ailes d'or et la beauté voilée
Des séraphins.
J'aimerais mieux près de toi sur la terre
Vivre toujours.
Car même au ciel, vois-tu, je te préfère
Toi mes amours.
Ah ! pour t'aimer je ne suis noble dame Ni reine hélas.
Et je n'ai rien que l'amour de mon âme
Rien ici bas.
Mais si tu veux de mon toit solitaire
Tu seras Roi...
Et mon amour, mon cœur et ma prière
Seront pour toi.
C'est bête, c'est bête — mais c'est bien bon.
Schininà came, and Franceschi too.
I am so agitated that I go to the Gavinis' again. Monsieur has sent me a note. I explained my second visit as best I could; Madame, being detained with a sick cousin, will come on Wednesday. I pay her a great many compliments; she is very kind — and that is all.
If only the Chambers would close! You cannot imagine how all this throws my life into disorder.
I am completely unsettled and shall go to bed to escape this irritation. It is not yet nine o'clock!
I was so sensible yesterday. Let us never tackle fifty things at once. Let us represent each matter as a ball and make them disappear one by one as each matter is dealt with.
For the present there is the Chamber on Monday and Tuesday. Let us not speak of the rest, for heaven's sake.