Friday, 25 May 1883

First thing in the morning I go to Julian’s to show him Tony’s letters. Sincerely indignant, very restrained, and quite eloquent.

And when Cot arrived it was very fine. To begin with, Cot is the most amiable of men — his talent, fashionable for a moment, is beside the point, but he is a jury member and a good one. I regret that I cannot transcribe here this hour-long conversation in which I was truly very brilliant; when one is in that state, one listens to oneself with delight.
“What one understands well is stated clearly. And the words to say it come easily.”
My painting will doubtless not be moved — it is too late — but I spent a charming hour, and those two venerable old gentlemen will tell you so: I am certain I gave them a rare performance. A superior being, sincerely moved, translating her indignation into pointed words and philosophical reflections tempered by original and witty jokes. I am well aware that one never says such things about oneself — but do me justice: do I not also say when I am stupid, awkward, humiliated… dreadful?
In short I try to work; Bojidar is here all day and I tell him I despise him.
But here is something in the style of a sensational news article.
The rabbit punch.
Here is what I receive:
Copied letterLettre d’Émile Bastien-Lepage à Marie, 25 mai 1883
Dear Mademoiselle, My brother received your letter just as he was leaving on a journey. He charges me to let you know that he found time to write, and he very much hopes that you will get what you ask for and so richly deserve I am delighted at your reward, which you have so well deserved, and I much regret not being able to come and congratulate you most sincerely. Please believe in the friendship of your devoted Émile Bastien-Lepage.
It is the architect who replies to me!!!! Then there is a moment of black sadness. O Richard, O my king, the universe abandons you, a feeling of desolation, of abandonment, of dreadful melancholy.
He did not even take the trouble to reply. And even the vile architect did not rush over. Not only does the great man remain absolutely cold, but his cook of a brother… So, this note.
Copied letterBillet de Marie à Émile Bastien-Lepage (copie), 25 mai 1883
“First, I charge you to tell your brother that he might have put himself out so far as to reply to the letter I was wrong to write to him. Next, I very much regret that you have broken both your legs and that this prevents you from coming to congratulate me. Marie Baskirseff.
And now… If only this catastrophe of a painting leaves my mind free, so that I can work… Yes, for I must, I must, I must get there.
Ah! I am in a mood to enter into battle with the entire universe, to write insolent letters to every member of the jury, to call them what they are, dirty schemers, and sign, sign, sign. It is not a question of the mention; they could have hung it on the umbrella I left in the cloakroom, as I told Cot, that is no concern of mine. What is shameful is the moving of my painting… A mention in any section whatever ought to be a guarantee against such things, all the more since the painting helped to win it for me.
Well… it is odious.

Notes

Pierre Auguste Cot (1837–1883), academic painter known for The Storm (1880) and Springtime (1873), both hugely popular with the American public. He died later in 1883. ↩
In French in the original: Ce que l’on comprend bien s’énonce clairement. Et les mots pour le dire arrivent aisément. — Boileau, Art poétique (1674), Canto I. A famous maxim on the virtue of clarity in writing. ↩
In French in the original: Ô, Richard, ô mon roi, l’univers t’abandonne. Blondel’s aria in Grétry’s opera Richard Coeur-de-Lion (1784), sung by royalist officers at the Versailles banquet of 1 October 1789. ↩