Tuesday, 1 May 1883

Tony busied himself with my painting as much as with Alice's drawing, which he believes was rejected. I was very foolish to rely on him alone — I who know several jury members. Bastien is all-powerful, Carolus, Gervex, Carrier-Belleuse… There it is.
I did not say a word to any of them… It is Julian who tells me all this. We encounter him at the Salon. They did not even know whether I was sending anything or what I was sending, these jury members he assumed I was going to use.
I am in a bottle-green dress, matching plumed hat. The effect very noble. I cannot understand how I could have loved eccentric things five or six years ago.
I have arrived at dressing with an artistic simplicity that is of the very best taste. I am expressing myself like a cook… In short, what did I mean? Yes — this dress is very fitted at the waist, with a small upright collar in green velvet on which runs a spider brooch, instead of those horrible fashionable creatures such as
…flies, lizards, and so on. And not the shadow of fatigue.
[Written across the page: And Jules finds this dress charming.]
I am keyed up for the next few days. Does one tire from enjoying oneself? My face, however impressionable, shows nothing — I am fresh, and my eyes are bright. It is fortunate, for we encounter the Bastien brothers alone. Gavini is at last in a position to make Jules's acquaintance, and presents to him the former minister Chevreau. Bastien deigns to chat, to walk about, and to sit with us.
It is I who keeps turning away and moving off at every instant… for fear of Mackay arriving, or of constraining him [words blacked out: to see him?] eager to leave. And while Gavini takes me to see something or other in the other rooms, my mothers take their leave of the two brothers. Then we find Julian again, to whom I make excited confidences…
Then Carrier-Belleuse and Gervex. Gervex is very kind. They offer to have my painting moved down. If that were possible it would be most pleasant. And finally it is Clovis Hugues we meet in the sculpture galleries. This moment is very pleasant almost always — one comes down a little tired; all the men eventually settle on benches amid the flowers.
It is like a promenade at a spa town. I want to do a portrait of Clovis Hugues — there is one this year that is greatly flattered and dreadful.
We find Jules again at the exit. He is pleasant but he is a poseur. And then I am afraid all the time of boring him… It is not amusing. This little man must have a dry heart. He loves only his art — he is right in that — yet I should wish him a more open, more generous manner; perhaps it is because we bore him.
Yet it is difficult to be more discreet… And yet… In short, I ought to have pleased him frankly… And it is not there. One can feel it. The other assures me I am very congenial to him, and that he finds me talented and that I am… But I feel awkward with him.
He is coming to dine on Friday and that embarrasses me. It does not amuse him; perhaps he will do it for his brother… It is tiresome.
Afterwards we go to Doucet and Gelot for hats! I am in a conquering mood and at my most eloquent — finding witty and charming things to say about hats, just as at the Salon I was unrolling magnificent phrases about aesthetics and being listened to by Gervex and Julian and Carrier-Belleuse. I please that last one — and it gives me not the
…slightest pleasure.
[Words blacked out: barely] do I feel a little tired in the evening — and even then, not really. I could walk on.
Oh — again: to stay up all night, ride horses, try on dresses, paint pictures, and say charming things. One has such days…
And the Salon. Well — it is worse than usual. Let us begin with the principal works. Carolus has gone soft; Dagnan has not exhibited; Sargent is mediocre; Gervex ordinary. Henner is ravishing: a naked woman reading, by artificial light, the whole thing bathed in a kind of vapour but of so deliciously precious a tone that one feels oneself enveloped in this wonderful magical haze. Jules admires it enormously. A painting by Cazin that I like less than his emotional landscapes. It is Judith leaving the city to go to Holofernes. I did not look long enough to feel "the charm it is meant to give off" — but what strikes one is that Judith's appearance does not account for Holofernes's captivation.
Bastien's painting does not entirely carry me away. The two figures are irreproachable. The girl seen from behind — the head of which one sees only the cheek — and that hand worrying a flower: all of it is poetry, feeling, observation pushed to the supreme degree.
That back is a poem. The hand one scarcely sees is a masterpiece. One feels what he wished to express. The girl lowers her head a little and does not know what to do with her feet, which are posed in the most charming awkwardness.
The young man is also very good. But the girl is grace, youth, poetry itself. It is true, it is right, it is felt, it is refined, it is delicate.
Now there is a landscape that is altogether disagreeable. Apart from the fact that he could have chosen a less green spot, it should also have been executed so as not to come forward. It lacks air. Why? They say the background is too heavily impasted. In short, it is heavy.
And Breslau? Breslau is good — but one feels her unsettled. It is still competent painting, but the work says nothing and is of a pretty yet common tone. People taking tea by the hearth: a bourgeois interior, without character. A dark-haired woman, a fair-haired woman, a young man. They look very serious. It lacks intimacy! I should have thought it would be more compact and more intimate. It expresses nothing. She who speaks so much of feeling does not appear to me gifted in that department… Her portrait is good, but that is all.
And I? Well, the head of Irma is pleasant and of a fairly direct painting. But it is an unpretentious thing. And the painting struck me as dark — and though made en plein air, it does not look it. The wall does not look like a wall; it is a sky, a painted backdrop, anything you like. The heads are good. But that background is disastrous. Yet it would deserve a better position — especially when one sees things so inferior on the cimaise; everyone agrees that the heads, the eldest's especially, are very good. I could probably have done the rest better, since it is relatively easy, but I did not have the time.
Seeing my painting hung there again, I have learnt more than in six months of studio work. The Salon is a great teacher… I have never understood this so well.