Wednesday, 17 September 1879

Cassagnac is Queen Isabella’s lover... It is a way out for him; otherwise Le Pays would go under, and resources are slender. What filthy morals this gentleman has! I ought not to believe in such infamy and I would not believe it if I were told it, but I believe it because I guessed it myself. Yes, I supposed it, going by the knight’s reputation. Mme Paul is at Vichy (liver and stomach) and M. Paul at the Queen’s château. If I judge by myself I see no harm in it, for I can never suppose anything dirty; it is only by taking other people’s point of view that I understand and suspect.
The exterior is adorable, the staging superb, but the interior is an emetic. I should like nothing better than to admit that my inner feelings deceive me, but I do believe I am right, and I only imagined all this yesterday on the way back from the theatre.
Here is an article in Le Gaulois that will shake our Bonapartism even more... I mean my family, who still cry that all republicans are peasants. When you say Republic! to them they answer: dirty linen, black fingernails, eating without a tablecloth, blowing one’s nose with one’s fingers! Besides, ladies cannot argue, and above all, thanks to the education they are not given, they are crassly ignorant — not only my family, but nine-tenths of ladies in general.
Today, a Wednesday, a favourable day, and the 17th, a rather good date, I begin preparing to sculpt. I went to make enquiries about ateliers. Tony came to the atelier yesterday; there was not much to correct, so he gave me some of his good advice, urging me to work on the painterly side, which I have lacked so far despite my qualities of construction, drawing, character, likeness, etc.
Oh yes! And so I am going to sculpt by gaslight instead of drawing. You understand, I am not giving up colour, since I paint as long as it is light, and as soon as the daylight is gone I sculpt: is that agreed? Yes, good.
I walked with Amanda (the sturdy Swede) and she told me about her visit to Tony (who was very nice to me yesterday), with whom she talked about all the pupils, and he told her that Amélie would always fall short in drawing and construction, etc.; indeed she produces senseless canvases, heads with swollen cheeks, crooked eyes, etc. etc.
As for Breslau, he says she has not made enough progress, and Julian adds that her talent is mere diligence. Anna is very gifted but does no work and has mad ideas. And me: extremely gifted and at the same time a diligent, rigorous worker, astonishingly rapid progress, very good drawing — in a word, “a chorus of praise”. So it is true, since they say it to outsiders. That was four months ago, and here I was believing I had been going downhill for eight or ten months... Well, it gives me courage; I shall work better and even more.
And yet I long to go to the country, real country with trees, lawns, a park such as the Arnauds’ must be. How happy those people are! Greenery as at Schlangenbad or even at Soden, instead of this stupid, arid Dieppe!
And they say I do not like the country! I do not like the Russian countryside, the neighbours, the house, etc. But I adore trees and pure air, so much that I long to spend a fortnight in some very green and very fragrant corner just as I long to go to Rome...
But of Rome I hardly ever speak, even here; the subject excites me and I want to stay calm.
It was while crossing the Tuileries garden that I was seized by all these longings for a country holiday. What would you have? I love it as much as I hate arid, windswept beaches... But to go and spend a fortnight in Switzerland with my family would be dreadfully boring... fuss, recriminations, bickering and all the trappings of domestic bliss.