Friday, 22 April 1881

I was returning from No. 37, where I have just finished the portrait of Brisbane as a Récamier, and under the carriage entrance Georges had the audacity to call to me twice in a voice that struck me as pleading. I walked past without flinching — but I cannot tell you the pain it caused me to see him there like a pauper. He comes often to the kitchen, where he tries — and manages — to have his letters sent to Maman: requests for money, entreaties of all kinds. Despised by the servants, he is obliged to lie to them, to beg them. And yet this life is dreadful — for when he is not drunk he has moments of reaching toward something better; he would like to leave, to settle his affairs... and all of it wrapped in lies well excusable in his wretched situation. But whose fault is it? Confronted by so many difficulties, so much misery, suffering, and humiliation, it seems to me he has done no real wrong — that I have exaggerated — and that he is simply unhappy.
And when one thinks that this life of an outcast, a criminal, had its origin in a few provocations of officials in Poltava — then he evaded, hid himself like a child accustomed as he was to the adoration of the whole family. Then other scandals, drink, deportation to Vyatka, but no single serious act. Good Lord — he is neither honourable nor scrupulous, certainly, but there are so many like him who live quietly enough. He is the one who dragged the whole household into the mud with him. Maman — young, beautiful, still a young woman — was already put forward to petition the bureaucracy, the ministers. For him she made that journey to Petersburg, and through the ministerial antechambers.
It is fortunate she did not leave a great deal more behind her there.
This young woman could not foresee the consequences nor think of her children; she bravely took everything upon herself, and was known only as petitioning on her brother's behalf. And going to visit him in his various prisons. You can picture how well that sits in the world. There was the old sick mother who idolised her son, and for whose sake all this was done. And now I understand the exasperation of this wretch, this unhappy man, on seeing us rich, happy, apparently tranquil.
Note that he received the best share of Grandfather's inheritance — but since to draw on it regularly one had to go to Russia and face the courts, he prefers to be robbed by shady lawyers and to extract help from here.
Maman, who was at church, saw the Princess there, who said Soutzo is in Paris.
I care not in the least about that.
Saint-Amand came. Gabriel is still unwell from his accident. But there is nothing and no one — except the high priest of Le Pays.
My father is very kind and we all live in good harmony.

Notes

En Récamier: posed in the manner of Juliette Récamier's famous portrait by David (1800) — reclining on a daybed in a white Empire-style gown, one of the most widely recognised poses of the period.
Vyatka (also spelled Vatka or Viatka): a city in the Ural region, commonly used as a place of administrative exile for Russian political offenders in the 19th century. Georges (Marie's uncle, her mother's brother) had been exiled there as a result of his provincial troubles.
"The high priest of Le Pays": Marie's ironic title for Cassagnac, the combative editor of the Bonapartist newspaper Le Pays.