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Wednesday, 3 August 1881

After a frantic search for a garden where I might paint in peace, giving up the struggle, I set to modelling Rosalie's head.

Apres des courses folles a la recherche d'un jardin ou je pourrais peindre tranquillement, de guerre lasse je me mets a modeler la tete de Rosalie.

Around five o'clock that monster Julian finally arrives — he had always been going to come. But the whole thing turns out God knows how — my aunt was there, and whatever one says it made him uncomfortable; I got angry, and he thought it was because he had pointed out the faults in front of my aunt, though I afterwards told him everything so he would not think that.

Vers cinq heures arrive ce monstre de Julian qui devait toujours venir, enfin. Mais tout ca tourne Dieu sait comment, ma tante etait la et on a beau dire ca le genait; je me suis fachee et il a pense que c'est parce qu'il a dit les defauts devant ma tante, bien que je lui eusse ensuite tout dit pour qu'il le pense pas.

At last my aunt left, and here is the result. First what I already knew: the pose is neither pretty nor natural and the feet do not match — too long to explain. Then things dry and slapdash. Some good things in the head; the hedge and the buckets full of water the woman has set on the ground are very good apparently — which makes it all the more a shame. But a great reprimand for the casualness with which I set up my models; I look too little for the tableau and thought only of the morceau.¹ In short, my poor aunt unwittingly prevented me from profiting from the lesson. Once she had gone, Julian reproached me for having said what I said so indelicately — for I was worse than unkind, almost cruel. It is not nice, it is not tactful to wound people in that manner... I had no need to say that being corrected in her presence was so very inconvenient to me.

Enfin ma tante s'est en allee et voici le resultat. D'abord ce que je savais c'est que la pose n'est ni jolie ni naturelle et les pieds ne correspondent pas, c'es trop long a expliquer. Puis des choses seches et baclees. De bonnes choses dans la tete, la haie et les seaux plein d'eau que la femme a deposes par terre sont tres bien parait-il, que c'est meme dommage. Mais grande reprimande pour le sans-gene avec lequel je pose mes modeles, je cherche trop peu le tableau. Je ne cherchais que le morceau. Enfin, ma tante la pauvre a sans le vouloir empeche que je profite de la lecon. Quand elle fut partie Julian m'a reproche d'avoir dit cela si peu delicatement, car j'ai ete pire que mechante, presque cruelle. Ce n'est pas gentil, ce n'est pas delicat de froisser les gens de la sorte... Je n'avais pas besoin de dire que ca me genait si fort d'etre corrigee en sa *presence.*

That is true — but it is equally true that it is a torment when someone from your family is there trembling on your behalf, attaching wild importance to ordinary things and then... Yes, it is a torment. My aunt is not angry, not even hurt — she is too accustomed to my bluntness.

C'est vrai, mais c'est aussi vrai que c'est un supplice quand quelqu'un de votre famille est la a trembler pour vous, a attacher des importances folles a des choses ordinaires et enfin... Oui c'est un supplice. Ma tante n'est pas fachee, ni meme blessee, elle est trop habituee a mes franchises.

Notes

Tableau vs. morceau: an important distinction in 19th-century French academic painting. The tableau (picture) is the overall composition — how it reads as a coherent whole. The morceau (piece, study) is the isolated fragment — a well-rendered passage or figure. Julian criticises Marie for concentrating on the latter at the expense of the former. ↩

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