Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff

Well, let us try to account for one's time… I am getting muddled. Well, I have seen the cathedral — one of the most beautiful and largest in the world, in my opinion. The Alcázar with its delicious gardens, the sultanas' baths. And then we took a walk through the streets; I exaggerate nothing in saying we were the only women in hats — and it is to our hats that I attribute the astonishment of the population. If only I had been elegant — but I was wearing a gray wool skirt, a tight black coat, and a black traveling hat. But foreigners are regarded here like learned monkeys — one stops, they jeer, or they say pleasant things. The children jeer at me but the grown-ups tell me I am pretty and salada — it is, as one knows, very chic to be salty. Seville is all white, all white; the streets are narrow, carriages cannot pass through most of them. And with all that, it is not as picturesque as one would wish. Ah! Toledo — I see my barbarism now: Toledo is a marvel. Seville, with its low whitewashed houses, is of a slightly bourgeois character. There is something in the lower quarters… But in every country in the world the poor quarters are interesting. What there is, is a harmony and richness of tone such that one would like to paint everything. I am greatly annoyed at not speaking Spanish — it is a dreadful handicap especially for working, making studies… These women and half-wild children are of a prodigious color as are their rags. It is ravishing despite the crudeness of the white houses. But it rains constantly, and besides I am with family. I can understand being

# Mardi 25 octobre 1881

happy living as a family — and I would be miserable alone. One can go shopping as a family, go to the Bois as a family, sometimes to the theater; one can be ill as a family, take a cure as a family — in short everything that belongs to intimate life and necessary things. But to travel as a family!!! It is as though one took pleasure in waltzing with one's aunt. It is mortally dull and even somewhat ridiculous. One struggles not to fall into stupor and becomes an object of self-pity. Yesterday I made a study of a beggar, in four or five hours, life-size. One must from time to time attempt very rapid sketches to loosen one's hand. Then we went to the Marquis Pickman y Pickman, to whom we were directed by our consul at Biarritz. They are good porcelain manufacturers of English origin who enriched themselves here and became marquises. Señora María del Rosario Gutiérrez y thirty-six other things is a round, fresh little bourgeoise — in short, straight to the basket. Off to Granada — but I think of Paris with such pleasure… I would like to be there. You do not know — I have dreamed of Cassagnac and thought of him constantly in Seville… Besides, more or less everywhere — it is now only a habit — my daydreams are divided between him and the artistic glory my Immense Talent will bring me. And yesterday! I tried to sing for the first time in perhaps a year, and those few passable notes made me leap for joy. Ah! If I could sing. I feel as though in exile; the days are so long under this gray sky, and sleeping little because of the mosquitoes I am on edge and cannot work. I must return to Paris — what am I doing in this province. It is enough to weep. If I could work I would forget everything — but to be there for three days in a hotel, alone, sad… And I have just read a touching story that recalls Paul and Virginia,1 that sublime novel whose very memory sends gusts of youth and poetry through the soul. It was even to speak of it that I opened this notebook… Ah! Yes, speak to me of Andalusia — I walked through the streets once with my aunt, and another time with a guide to see the old Jewish quarter. I hoped to find a heap of amusing old things, and instead found corridors without ceilings, whitewashed! And here and there small doorways opening onto very neat and tidy little courtyards with fine plants in the center. O Toledo, O Córdoba! I had imagined Seville and a heap of amusing adventures — but

heureux de vivre en famille et je serais malheureuse seule. On peut aller faire des achats en famille, aller au Bois en famille, quelquefois au theatre, on peut etre malade en famille, faire des cures en famille, enfin tout ce qui est de la vie intime et des choses necessaires. Mais voyager en famille !!! C'est comme si on prenait plaisir a valser avec sa tante. C'est ennuyeux mortellement et meme quelque peu ridicule. On se bat les flancs pour ne pas tomber dans l'abrutissement et on se fait pitie. J'ai fait hier une etude de mendiant, en quatre ou cinq heures, grandeur nature. Il faut de temps en temps essayer des esquisses tres rapides pour s'assouplir la main. Et puis nous avons ete chez le marquis Pickman y Pickman auquel nous sommes adressees par notre consul de Biarritz. Ce sont de braves fabricants de porcelaine d'origine anglaise enrichis ici et devenus marquis. Madame Maria del Rosario Guttierez y trente six choses est une petite bourgeoise ronde et fraiche, bref... au panier. Allons a Grenade mais je pense a Paris avec tant de plaisir... Je voudrais y etre. Vous ne savez pas, j'ai reve de Cassagnac et j'y ai pense constamment a Seville... Du reste un peu partout, ce n'est plus qu'une habitude, mes reveries se partagent entre lui et les gloires artistiques que me donnera mon Immense talent. Et hier ! j'ai essaye de chanter pour la premiere fois depuis un an peut-etre et ce peu de notes passables m'ont fait bondir de joie. Ah ! si je pouvais chanter. Il me semble etre en exil, les journees sont si longues sous ce ciel gris et dormant peu a cause des moustiques je suis enervee et ne puis travailler. Il faut rentrer a Paris, qu'est-ce que je fais dans cette province. C'est a pleurer. Si je trouvais a travailler j'oublierais tout, mais etre la pour trois jours a l'hotel, seule, triste... Et je viens de lire une histoire touchante qui rappelle Paul et Viginie, sublime roman dont le souvenir seul vous fait passer des bouffes de jeunesse et de poesie dans l'ame. C'est meme pour en parler que j'ai ouvert ce cahier... Ah ! oui parlez-moi de l'Andalousie, j'ai ete une fois dans la rue a pied avec ma tante et une autre fois avec un guide voir les anciennes rues juives. J'esperais trouver un tas de vieilleries amusantes, et au lieu de cela des sortes de corridors sans plafonds, blanchis a la chaux ! Et par ci par la de petites portes laissant entrevoir des petites cours tres nettes, tres propres avec de belles plantes au milieu. O Tolede, o Cordoue ! Je m'imaginais Seville et un tas d'aventures amusantes, mais

I am so bored that I stay locked in the hotel — farewell to adventures. And it rains. And Paul and Virginia… the Paul who… you know… no doubt — it is mine. No love, no poetry, not even youth. Nothing — truly there is nothing in my life, and in Seville it seems as though I were buried, as in Russia that summer. All these travels!… Why? And painting. It is five months since I was at the studio; of those five months, with all these travels, I have lost three. And I have such need to work… Breslau's Honorable Mention2 awakened a whole world of thoughts — or rather brought closer to me, made possible… transported into real life that dream of Salon medals which had seemed so remote that I dreamed of it in my pipe dreams as I dreamed of having the Legion of Honor or of being Queen of Spain… When Villevieille came to tell me of the probability of Breslau's mention, she seemed to think it moved me… In short, others — in allowing that I might dare to contemplate a prize for myself — gave me the audacity to contemplate it; or rather to tell myself that since others think I can dream of it, it must therefore be possible… In short, for five months now I dream of it as much as of Cassagnac… And I wonder if it is possible that he will occupy me my entire life and that I am for him merely the little girl he saw twenty times and has entirely forgotten? For after all, while I live with his thought — while all my actions, all my dreams relate to him — while I link him intimately to my life — he does not so much as think that I exist and is entirely a stranger to me, that is to say I am entirely a stranger to him. And I would like to possess the "technical mastery of words" of Théophile Gautier3 to analyze this phenomenon. This gentleman, with whom I have never been alone for ten consecutive minutes, has entered so thoroughly into my imaginary life that were he to arrive at this moment and call me Marie, I would find it perfectly natural. I have never lived so intimately with anyone as with him since we have stopped seeing each other. His marriage has not presented itself for a single instant as an obstacle — since I think of it as I think of my medal, that is: in the realm of the impossible, the dream, a sort of heaven where everything happens according to my fancy — where I marry kings, where I become a widow, and where the young deputy from Gers loves me to distraction. His wife dies too — for a married man… never in one's life. Well, someone… now when Julian speaks to me of … that gentleman, it seems quite strange to me — as though one were speaking of raising the dead. I live so retired that I see him once a year, not

je m'ennuie tant que je reste enfermee a l'hotel, adieu les aventures. Et il pleut. Et Paul et Virginie... le Paul que... vous savez... sans doute, c'est le mien. Pas d'amour, pas de poesie, pas meme de jeunesse. Rien c'est vrai il n'y a rien dans ma vie et a Seville il me semble que je sois enterree comme en Russie cet ete. Tous ces voyages !... Pourquoi ? Et la peinture. Voila cinq mois que je n'ai ete a l'atelier, de ces cinq mois avec tous ces voyages j'en ai perdu trois. Moi qui ai tant besoin de travailler... La mention de Breslau a reveille tout un monde de pensees ou plutot a rapproche de moi, a rendu possible... a transporte dans la vie reelle ce reve de medailles au Salon qui paraissait si lointain que j'y songeais dans mes comtes a dormir comme je songeais a avoir la legion d'honneur ou a etre reine d'Espagne... Lorsque Villevieille vint m'annoncer la probabilite de la mention Breslau elle eut l'air de croire que cela me faisait... Enfin les autres en admettant que je pourrais oser songer a une recompense pour moi m'ont donne l'audace d'y songer ou plutot de me dire que puisque les autres pensent que je puis y rever, il faut donc que cela soit possible... Bref voila bien cinq mois que j'y reve autant qu'a Cassagnac... Et je me demande s'il est possible que j'en sois occupee toute ma vie et que je ne sois pour lui que la petite fille qu'il a vue vingt fois et qu'il a parfaitement oubliee ? Car enfin pendant que je vis avec sa pensee, pendant que toutes mes actions, tous mes reves se rapportent a lui, pendant que je le lie intimement a ma vie, il ne pense seulement pas que j'existe et m'est tout a fait etranger, c'est-a-dire moi je lui suis tout a fait etrangere. Et je voudrais posseder la "technicite des mots" de Theophile Gautier pour analyser ce phenomene. Ce monsieur avec qui je ne me suis jamais trouvee seule dix minutes de suite est tellement entre dans ma vie fictive qu'il arriverait a l'instant et m'appellerait Marie que je trouverais cela tout simple. Je n'ai jamais vecu si intimement avec personne qu'avec lui depuis que nous ne nous voyons plus. Son mariage ne s'est pas presente un seul instant comme obstacle puisque j'y pense comme je pensais a ma medaille, c'est-a-dire dans l'impossible, le reve, une sorte de ciel ou tout se fait selon ma fantaisie ou j'epouse des rois, ou je deviens veuve et ou le jeune depute du Gers m'aime a la folie. Sa femme meurt aussi car un homme marie... jamais de la vie. Eh bien quelqu'un... tenez quand Julian me parle de ... ce monsieur, cela me parait tout drole comme si je parlais de ressusciter un mort, je vis si retiree que je le vois une fois par an, pas

even that… So he remains in the clouds, and the medal or mention becomes… I would dearly like to be able to say: becomes palpable. In any case at the moment I have nothing this year — it will be one of those terrible blows that are hard to imagine. And my ill-luck is such… and think of it — I have not yet the least idea what I shall do… Well, one ought to prepare oneself in advance for this disaster… Merely thinking of it I catch fire — and besides I think I let myself be cheated by master Lorenzo (I seem to be rambling — but everything is connected: the study from Lorenzo's shop could make a painting).

meme... Donc il reste dans les nuages et la medaille ou mention devient... Je voudrais bien avoir le bonheur de dire devient palpable. Enfin la je n'ai rien cette annee, ce sera un de ces coups terribles dont il est difficile de se faire une idee. Et ma malchance est telle... et songez donc je n'ai pas encore la moindre idee de ce que je ferai... Enfin il faudrait d'avance m'habituer a ce desastre... Rien que d'y penser je deviens en feu et aussi je crois que je me suis laissee voler par maitre Lorenzo Q'ai l'air de divaguer, mais tout s'enchaine, l'etude de chez Lorenzo peut faire un tableau).

Notes

Paul and Virginia: the celebrated 1788 novel by Bernardin de Saint-Pierre; a romance of innocent youth in Mauritius, ending in shipwreck and death; widely regarded as the paradigm of doomed romantic love in French literature.
Breslau's Honorable Mention: Louise Breslau (1856–1927), Swiss-born painter, a fellow student at the Académie Julian; her Honorable Mention at the 1879 Salon inspired Marie to hope for a prize of her own.
Théophile Gautier (1811–1872), French poet, novelist, and art critic, celebrated for his exact and vivid vocabulary in describing works of art; Marie admired his art criticism enormously.