Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Friday, 28 October 1881

So I spent today in the prisons of Granada. The prisoners enjoy a charming liberty — the courtyard resembles a market, the doors do not appear to close very well, and in short this prison does not much resemble descriptions of French maximum-security institutions. My poor devil of a convict posed very well all day — but as I made the head life-size and roughed in the hands in a single day (sublime genius!) I did not [blacked out: render quite as] exactly as usual the startlingly shifty character of the individual. And I am wrong to blame the lack of time, for if I am not more satisfied it is due to the light, which [blacked out: changed] several times, and also to those good convicts — I had a dozen of them behind my back the whole time. They took turns but there were always some, and it is irritating to feel eyes behind one. The excellent deputy warden, in whose office I was working, had placed chairs behind me — as in a theater — for his friends who succeeded one another there all day long. And at every moment there was a knock at the door — prisoners, the well-behaved ones, the trusty prisoners who asked to come in and came in. The interpreter and Rosalie stayed there the whole time, and I learned in this way that a man who murdered his wife is to be publicly strangled

# Vendredi 28 octobre 1881

next week publicly. Then that there is a prisoner in there for having refused to salute a procession — and other astonishing things. Have you noticed that when one says, as I did just now — "and other astonishing things," or "I'll skip some, including the best ones," or again "and what I have told you is nothing compared to the rest" — It is always the case that one has not skipped anything, not even the worst; that one has told the most striking things and there is nothing else beyond — but one wishes [blacked out: to outdo the truth] very often. In speaking of a person one cites what they have done worst, saying: here is [blacked out: something] typical of them — judge then what the great sins are. But let us return to my convict: I had attributed to him the most enormous crimes, yet it seems he only dealt in counterfeit money. [Blacked out: But] this idea of his relative innocence perhaps prevented me from giving him the criminal air he has. For he has a face capable of anything — so I shall construct a little story for him, which I shall bring out in Paris. The balcony window looked onto the courtyard, and all those poor devils watched with Spanish avidity — the model, the easel, the painter. When we came out they rushed forward like starving dogs, with expressions, clasped hands, exclamations at the sight of their comrade's portrait. At the moment of crossing the threshold, the deputy warden was kind enough to show the canvas to the entire courtyard, which was straining on tiptoe; then he carried it to the chief and to the commander, who came down into the street to greet me in my carriage. Then the deputy warden still walking before the horses, we stopped in front of the house of another prison official who came to look. And after the commander and the deputy warden had renewed their assurances of receiving me again with pleasure, I at last departed to find my aunt, with whom we took a stroll. I wrote in the corner of my canvas: Antonio Lopez (?) condemned to death 1881, October, for murder, theft, and counterfeiting. Poor man — but in any case I slander him under a pseudonym. His name may be Rodríguez or Pérez instead of López. I depicted him wearing his knitting; most of those agreeable citizens — [blacked out: that is to say, all those who are not occupied] in the carpentry, joinery, cobblery workshops etc. etc. — knit stockings like peaceful housewives. The condemned man was walking about the courtyard as freely as possible — those there for only a year or two, for trifles. Several of these gentlemen prefer the cuisine of

publiquement la semaine prochaine. Puis qu'il y a un prisonnier pour n'avoir pas voulu saluer la procession et d'autres choses etonnantes. Avez-vous remarque que lorsqu'on dit, comme moi tout a l'heure et d'autres choses etonnantes, ou bien j'en passe et des meilleurs, ou encore: et ce que je dis la n'est rien aupres du reste. C'est toujours qu'on ne passe rien pas meme les pires, qu'on a dit ce qu'il y avait de plus fort et qu'il n'y a pas du reste, mais qu'on veut [Mots noircis:rencherir sur la verite tres] souvent en parlant d'une personne on cite ce qu'elle a fait de pire en disant: voici [Mots noircis: quelque chose] qui lui est habituel, jugez donc de ce que sont ces gros peches. Mais revenons a mon forcat, je l'avais pare des crimes les plus enormes et il n'a fait parait-il que de changer de la fausse monnaie. [Mots noircis: Mais] cette idee de son innocence relative m'a peut-etre empeche de lui donner l'air criminel qu'il a. Car il a une tete a tout faire aussi vais-je lui faire un petit roman que je ressortirai a Paris. La fenetre balcon donnait sur la cour et tous ces pauvres diables regardaient avec une avidite espagnole le modele et le chevalet et le peintre. En sortant ils sont accourus comme des chiens affamees et ce furent des mines, des mains jointes, des exclamations en voyant le portrait du camarade. Au moment de franchir la porte, le sous-chef a eu l'amabilite de montrer la toile a toute la cour qui se hissait sur la pointe des pieds, puis il l'a portee au chef et au commandant qui est descendu dans la rue me saluer dans ma voiture. Puis le sous-chef marchant toujours devant les chevaux on s'est arrete devant la maison d'un autre dignitaire de la prison qui est venu voir. Et apres que le commandant et le sous-chef m'eurent renouvele l'assurance qu'ils me reverraient avec plaisir je suis enfin partie chercher ma tante avec qui nous faisons un tour a la promenade. J'ai ecrit dans le coin de ma toile: Antonio Lopez (?) condamne a mort 1881, octobre, pour assassinat, vol et fausse monnaie. Pauvre homme mais enfin je [le] calomnie sous un pseudonyme. Il s'appelle peut-etre Rodriguez ou Perez au lieu de Lopez. Je l'ai represente avec son tricot; la plupart de ces aimables citoyens, [Mots noircis: c'est-a-dire tous ceux qui ne sont pas occupes] aux ateliers de charpenterie, menuiserie, cordonnerie etc. etc. tricotent des bas comme de paisibles menageres. Le condamne a mort se promenait dans la cour aussi libre que possible, qui ne sont la que pour un an ou deux, pour des bagatelles. Plusieurs de ces messieurs preferent la cuisine de

the establishment to that of the family, and their gracious companions bring them delicious dinners, which Coco would certainly not want. [Blacked out: Coco, nicknamed the assassin — no one ever knew why — who, whenever his colleagues behaved with me as Francis I did with Titian],1 leapt at them without barking, the better to bite.

famille a celle de l'etablissement et leurs gracieuses compagnes leur apportent de delicieux diners dont Coco ne voudrait certainement pas. [Mots noircis: Coco, surnomme l'assassin, on n'a jamais su pourquoi, et qui, chaque fois que ses collegues se conduisaient avec moi comme Francois 1er avec le Titien], leur sautait dessus sans aboyer, pour mordre plus surement.

Notes

François Ier avec le Titien: the celebrated anecdote that Francis I (or Charles V, in other versions) stooped to pick up the brush Titian had dropped in his studio — the archetype of royal homage to genius. Marie uses it wryly to describe the convicts' reverent approach to her easel. ↩