Thursday, 28 July 1881

Brisbane came to show me her drawings and see my painting; Villevieille too — the latter pours a little balm into my soul by speaking well of the work... But I should tell you that yesterday, and even before my departure, we spoke at length, as you know, about my very tiresome health; having reviewed all the leading medical authorities, old père Rodolphe told me two months ago that in my place he would go to see a man who, by the speciality he has adopted, has made for himself a formidable — not easily pronounced — reputation, but who is a true scholar, a truly very able man, and who cured a lady whom Julian loves and respects, whose husband is his friend. She had been given up for lost, and it was her mother who, at her wit’s end, took her to the terrible doctor, who cured her. Yesterday it came up again in conversation (everyone else had gone; we were alone) — Julian was predicting every sort of decline if I did not take myself seriously in hand; a lady today to give me the names of the doctors to see, can recommending me not to forget the great, dreadful man.
So I went this morning, heavily veiled, and for a fee was admitted despite the fact that he only receives in the afternoon. For some time now I have thought that my illness comes from something corrupt in the blood — my father having been ill when he married. For as a child I always had something in my throat and never breathed well through my nose — and now the ears... As for the right lung, it followed from the preceding things, and all of it was developed by crying, weeping, etc., etc. I beg your pardon for speaking of such disgusting things, but it weighs so on my mind that I must explain it all. I have never told my suppositions to any doctor, to anyone — not even to today’s — only as it is Ricard he will have seen it, if there is something to see, if I am not mistaken; naturally he said nothing. I told him how it began with catching cold, loss of voice, coughs, Enghien, Fauvel, Krishaber, Mont-Dore, etc.
I was trembling as I spoke, and with his encouraging manner he must first have suspected something quite different. He examined my mouth and listened to my back and chest, then the light tapping on the collarbone.
I had the frightened look of a child, though this stooped old man appeared kind and attentive. He completely won me over — by the dread he inspired, and by that air of condescension and benevolence peculiar to the all-powerful, to those who have had everything from life.
I have rarely seen anyone so fascinating. From today I shall follow his prescriptions to the letter — with confidence, with joy. Julian, to whom I went to report my visit, is the only one who will know I have seen him.
Papa left this evening; we are on the best of terms.

Notes

Père Rodolphe: a familiar name for Rodolphe Julian (1839–1907), founder of the Académie Julian. ↩
Ricard: probably Dr Philippe Ricord (1800–1889), the Paris specialist in venereal disease. The «suppositions» Marie has told no doctor concern «quelque chose de vicieux dans le sang» that she believes she inherited from her father. ↩