Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 8 June 1882

A grand dinner at our house. The Duchess of Fitz-James, Mlle de Charrette — but here is the plan (see p. 22).
In the evening there are also the Comte and Comtesse de Béarn, M. and Mme Jide, M. and Mme Randouin, Montgomery, Melissano, both Pignatellies, Rehmann, and five or six young men who were brought along thinking there would be dancing.
[Written across: Let us not forget the celebrated explorer Count de Brazza, who is a friend of the Fitz-Jameses and whom we met at the de Lessepses'.]
It is Maman who never listens to me and who said to bring them.
Carolus was charming, adorable, ravishing. When the Mesdames de Fitz-James, de Turenne, and de Charrette depart, we pass into my studio — everyone piles in on the floor, on the cushions, on the bearskins. Carolus sings, plays, talks; he is an astonishing creature. Nadaud had provided three or four songs at the beginning of the evening, and towards the end Maurel decided to unleash a piece. I do not like that great baritone — his art is common. But Carolus, who remembers having met us at Fayet's — do you recall, the other evening three years ago, when Berthe and I, accompanied by Bojidar, explored the Latin Quarter; it was snowing, it was cold — following that encounter at Fayet's, we had arranged to meet him at the Murcia charity festival by means of an extravagant letter. And he tells me all of this over dinner.
So we are, as one might say, accomplices — there is a body between us!
Ah! This creature is amusing! Imagine — he almost made me jealous by talking with Brisbane. Oh, the empty-hearted women. And Gabriel? And Tony — Julian took him off at half past twelve. That made Carolus less interesting... In short, all of it, all of it, all of it, does not alter the fact that I genuinely have an empty heart. That is the result of this evening in which I gave my utmost in beauty, in an exquisite white gown, with a neck that drew men's eyes in long, lingering looks... The elder Pignatelli is quite charming, especially beside his simpleton brother who is only twenty and has five hundred thousand francs a year. He played the mandolin; Odette sang. Ah! I enjoyed myself with that devil Carolus-Duran. Only at
And the painting?? The pastel is very good — Tony told me so again this evening. But this week has been truly deplorable; I painted abominably!... Ah! I shall never have any talent...
It is past four o'clock, broad daylight — I close the shutters hermetically to make an artificial night for myself, while the blue smocks of the workers pass in the street below, already going to their labour.
Poor souls. It is raining; before five in the morning these wretches are labouring, and we... moaning over our troubles with Doucet lace...
There — I have produced a common phrase, a platitude... Each in their own sphere suffers and complains, and each has good reasons for it... At this hour I complain of nothing — for if I have no talent, no one is to blame for it... And likewise if I have not yet found a brilliant husband... I only ever complain of things that are unjust, unnatural, and detestable — as so many things in the past were... And in the present still, although... And yet this isolation has been a benefit that might perhaps lead me to talent.
Lucky Carolus — celebrated, and believing himself the most sublime artist of all time.
I am going to go to Brittany and work there...

Notes

Pierre Savorgnan de Brazza (1852-1905), the explorer who opened up the Congo for France. ↩
Gustave Nadaud (1820-1893), prolific songwriter and chansonnier. ↩
Victor Maurel (1848-1923), celebrated baritone, later the creator of Iago and Falstaff in Verdi's operas. ↩
The Murcia floods of 1879 provoked a major charity campaign in Paris. ↩