Saturday, 23 November 1878

They talked me round so well last night that I went to see Coco.
Robert-Fleury spoke to me again “from the point of view of a serious artistic future, a future as a talented painter”! I do not remember the expressions he used, but he spoke to me of my work as a whole, of my evening work, and Breslau, who heard, looked at me with consideration and with that benevolent air one puts on when one does not wish to seem jealous. It is not this week’s head that is in question — my painting is still so weak that there is not much to say about it — but my studies as a whole.
What unsettles me somewhat is that I have been ordered not to be content with atelier studies, but to make sketches, compositions, from memory, etc.
I had started off like a machine, and now I must put something of myself into it — have a little independence! From the way he urged me to work and encouraged me, I saw that I am in his good graces, like Breslau.
You will understand that little as I care for M. Robert-Fleury the man, I set great store by my master — for I repeat: without being a compelling painter, our professor is a perfect teacher.
With Breslau and me he has a way of correcting all his own.
That Breslau — I should like to start talking to her again, for she is the only one with whom I can exchange ideas, on the Arts at least. She would be especially precious to me for going to the museums. At the beginning I was her friend, I defended her; then for a while I was on very bad terms in that atelier, but now I have established myself admirably on bad terms with everyone, and it had unsettled me. And then I was not speaking to Amélie, which lowered me to the point of treating her as an equal. And Amélie, who had set me at odds with the Swiss girls, had made them believe they would gain by keeping away from me. It is curious to note: every time you mix with your inferiors, people do not think you are doing them the honour of believing them your equals, but that you are worse than they are. They do not admit that well-bred people should want to know them. Although that implies an absolute lack of vanity, it is perfectly true. By now I have established myself to perfection. I told them what I have just written, and much else besides; I was a Cassagnac once and for all, and I still am from time to time — rarely, though. And now, I tell you, I conduct myself as well as can be, and I am respected.
This evening I am going to see Les Amants de Vérone again with Nadine and Paul. We are inviting Filippini. I am not pretty, though well dressed. Capoul and Mlle Heilbronn sang and acted adorably. I am reconciled with Capoul; as for his face, he is good-looking enough for a mummer. The score opens like a flower on second hearing; one should go again — the flower would bloom and spread a quite delightful perfume. There are delicious phrases, but, mind you, it takes patience and delicacy. This music does not impose itself; one must go in search of its charm, which is subtle, almost faint, but which is there.

Notes

Les amants de Vérone: “The Lovers of Verona”. ↩