Sunday, 6 May 1883

I should very much like to invite Bastien for Wednesday but I dare not. The entire day is spent roughing in the Holy Women. It seems Bastien works this way — he blocks in first without a model… That is what I have done. It is at full definitive scale, and so one has a very good sense of it. Tony lent me a genuine Bethlehem robe, and Irma is here — not to pose seriously… but for reference. It is not very large: 3 metres 26 long by 2 metres 50 high. It could be so beautiful. But if…
The Princess, Alexis, the priest to dinner. There is an enormous buzz about the young Rochegrosse’s large canvas — Andromache losing her son Astyanax, torn from her to be hurled from the ramparts. It is antique, original, and modern. He follows no one and draws on no one. The colour and painting are of unparalleled vigour. There is no one at this moment who could do that. Add to this that he is the stepson of M. Théodore de Banville — there, as far as the press is concerned. In any case, setting aside that detail, it is a prodigious temperament. He is barely twenty-four years old and this is only his second exhibition. That is how one should be: composition, drawing, colour — all of incomparable fire.
It is truly a talent worthy of his name. Listen: Rochegrosse, Georges Rochegrosse. It is a roll of thunder.
And then the idyllic Bastien-Lepage. Georges Rochegrosse begins like a torrent; it is possible that later his talent will take a more concentrated form and that he will seek the sentimental quintessence, the psychology, like Bastien-Lepage.
And I?… What does my name say, Marie Bashkirtseff… I shall change it, for it sounds like something bizarre, tormented — not that it does not promise a certain brilliance; there is even a certain dash to it, pride, noise, but it is jerky and harried.
Tony Robert-Fleury… Is it not cold as an epitaph?
And Bonnat? It is correct, it is vigorous, but short and without brilliance. Manet sounds like an incomplete being, a pupil who shows great promise at fifty.
Breslau is sonorous, calm, powerful. Saint Marceaux is like Bashkirtseff, very nervous but less tormented.
Henner is mysterious and calm, and made with an indefinable grace, like the antique.
Carolus Duran is a disguise. Dagnan is subtle, veiled, delicate, gentle and strong, but without much beyond. Sargent makes me think of his painting: false Velázquez, false Carolus, better than Carolus, less than Velázquez, and good all the same.

Notes

Marie’s projected painting of the holy women at the tomb. ↩