Monday, 7 February 1881

Yesterday, de Daillens dined with us; Mme Mouzay came to collect her at one o’clock and made a scene because we do not return her calls regularly. Old fool.
My picture, which went astray for a moment on account of a figure that would not come right, is back on track — I am light as a feather. At one o’clock Villevieille and Brisbane, my principal models and infinitely obliging, come with me to the Mirlitons. I do not know whether I looked poorly before, or whether my eyes have opened, or whether Carolus is progressing — but I am dazzled by his portrait: the woman with the little girl in red. I, who did not like Carolus — his red child from the last Salon and his blue wife had disgusted me. But the two portraits today are the most beautiful one could see. Yet I still prefer the woman to the child — the woman on her own, who is old and rouged. It is dazzling.
The woman is not beautiful, but a handsome woman, likeable, motherly, in a plum-coloured Louis XIII dress, her bosom bare and luminous; the light continues through the child’s blond head and loses itself in the woman’s right hand resting on the child’s shoulder. The left hand holds a fan and falls negligently; pearls in the hair and on the arms. The hands are only sketched in, and towards the bottom of the portrait it is very loosely handled — to set off the figures and the bosom — a superb patch of light on a mossy green ground. And how it is painted! How broad it is! And it has the look of nature!
I prefer this to the smoke-darkened, dead machines of the museums. My favourite, Bastien-Lepage, is showing the face of the Prince of Wales in Henry VII costume, with the Thames and the English fleet as background — the background recalls the Mona Lisa in tone.
A blockhead’s face; it has altogether the look of a Holbein — one would be deceived... I do not care for that. Why imitate?
If it is a copy — but it is not a copy — well, it is an extremely successful imitation. I do not like it.
Oh! if only I could paint like Carolus-Duran!
This is the first time that I find something in painting worthy of being desired — something I would want for myself. After looking at that, everything else seems petty, dry, and dirty.
A terracotta by Saint-Marceaux — that one will never go astray like Bastien, and his works always go straight to the heart.

Notes

Les Mirlitons: a Paris gallery or exhibition space frequented by artists and collectors in the early 1880s; distinct from the Salon. ↩
Bastien-Lepage exhibited his portrait of the Prince of Wales (future Edward VII) at the Salon of 1881. Marie’s observation that the tonal background recalls the Mona Lisa reflects her keen eye for compositional references. ↩
René de Saint-Marceaux (1845–1915): French sculptor known for lyrical figure work in marble and terracotta. Marie contrasts his consistent quality with what she sees as Bastien-Lepage’s stylistic drift towards Holbein pastiche. ↩