Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Saturday, 12 October 1878

Saturday, 12 October 1878

Dear Paul,
I truly do not know why you imagine you owe your mother only a little affection in your spare moments. Affection for the authors of our days is a sentiment natural to all animals — dogs, cats, hyenas, etc. What we, as human beings, owe them additionally is deference. I do not involve myself in your relations with her; I assume them to be proper. But what I have the right to oversee is your improper, ill-bred, and coarse conduct toward your mother.
There are people who think that because it is Maman it does not matter, and that one does not owe her even the ordinary politeness one has for a stranger.
Why do you fear to vex your father and yet have no concern about offending your mother, who has had you on her hands for fourteen years?... Because your daily comfort does not depend on her; because your father would say coarse and unkind things to you; and because your mother will say nothing — she being in Paris and you in Poltava? In truth, if those are the only pressures your mind and heart submit to, I pity you. For a whim you neglect appeals that would have brought another running — too happy to find that his mother loves him and wishes to see him.
Suppose this occurred between mere acquaintances, and I assure you that even then the gentleman who acted as you do would be considered quite ungracious. Now, if what I have just said does not touch you, it is because you are truly cowardly by nature, and these sentiments are not made for you. Good day.
That is the official letter; now know that Maman is very ill, and that this evening she fell on the carpet senseless, and is now confined to bed. (I forbid you to show this letter, for I do not wish some wretch to have the wit to make sport of the fainting spells.) Our joys and our sorrows are not written down for you to be profaned, blighted, soiled by hateful, stupid, and cowardly words. But let us say no more of these horrors.
I earnestly counsel you to come. If you wish to give Maman pleasure. We do not know whether we shall keep her long, and if she were to die I am sure you would be desolate (cretinised as you are) at not having done what she desires.
Marie
My academic study was found: very well, very well, very well.
"Ah! you are well organised, and if you work you will do whatever you wish."
I am blasé about praise — (I say blasé for form's sake) — and the proof that Robert-Fleury is not lying is that I am envied on all sides. And it is stupid... but it pains me. There must be something to it for them to say such things each time — a man as serious and conscientious as Robert-Fleury. As for Julian, he says that if I knew everything that is said about me it would go to my head.
"It would intoxicate you, Mademoiselle Marie," said the maid.
I always fear that those who read me will think I am flattered because I am rich. That matters nothing — I pay no more than others, and others have connexions, friendships, kinships with the masters. Besides, at the hour when you read me there will be no more doubts about what I am worth. Ah! I must at least be compensated on that side!
It is good to see the respect accorded to one for one's personal merit.