Sunday, 27 May 1883

Today is the coronation in Moscow.
We go to church, where I endure, as usual, a fit of rage and despair that must be suppressed throughout the luncheon attended by Saint-Amand and Mme Tchernisky.
And then it all dissolves into tears!
Mme Massalsky, Mme Mackay’s friend, will not have failed to say that no one from the embassy ever sees us. If that is all she has said.
At half past four to the Bois with Adeline. All the salon gossip, the elegances, the life...
Am I wrong, am I right? If I went into society a great deal and thought only of elegance, bringing to those drawing rooms whatever originality I may have in my mind... I should have successes, even among celebrated men.
They prefer brilliant women in whose company they go to rest from their labours.
And is not the ambition of every man of talent and even of genius to be received and to shine in elegant salons and among society women? And am I not like these men?
No doubt having a halo would be splendid, but without any halo at all a young and charming woman can have at her feet all the celebrated ones, who are quite as much attracted by beautiful countesses as beautiful countesses are by their glory. Draw your own conclusions. I draw none. But in truth, I speak of all this as though I had a choice. Where would I go? Into two or three salons — not even that... To Mme de Kessler’s, a foreigner’s house where there is no glory in being received.
Or to Mme de Cambourg’s, who is French but where it amounts to the same thing.
Being merely tolerated at the old Duchess of Fitz-James’s, whose salon is not amusing. The Maréchale receives no one. And then... I say nothing of the Kanchines, the Foleyeffs, and the rest.
And then Maman is away and my father is dying.
So there is nothing to be said about it.
I should very much like to meet Camille Pelletan, the editor-in-chief of La Justice and a newly elected deputy. I read his most arid articles and his mind enchants me. I am steeped in Balzac and imagine, as is indeed the truth, that in life everything unfolds as it does in his books.
Calm myself. Calm myself. Calm myself.
What the devil, I have time. I am only twenty-four. That is quite a lot, all the same.
Rochegrosse is twenty-four.
Bastien-Lepage was not known until he was twenty-five.
Well, I am vexed to have offended that poor architect. But then, why did he write that he regrets not being able to come.
I should like my family to meet him and for things to be sorted out.

Notes

The coronation of Alexander III in the Kremlin’s Dormition Cathedral, on 15 May 1883 in the Russian (Julian) calendar, 27 May in the West. ↩
Camille Pelletan (1846–1915), Radical journalist, editor-in-chief of Clemenceau’s paper La Justice, and deputy for the Bouches-du-Rhône since 1881. ↩