Monday, 28 May 1883

We return home just as Saint-Marceaux rings at our door.
— You have been caught out: you thought you would find no one.
Ah, I am delighted!
You can imagine that the mention is the subject of conversation; I draw on everything I have said and written since that fatal event and present it to this great man as a brilliant improvisation. The great man is altogether charming. He is not the sly one from Damvillers. He is a man of the world and a man of wit. He has said nothing but remarkable things; he is neither Bouguereau nor Manet, nor even the false naïf from Damvillers. I call him a false naïf and Saint-Marceaux approves; indeed he has referred to him as a photographer, in the third person. The modern school is on a wrong path, and Bastien too.
We are in agreement. Yet Bastien speaks of the arts as I think of them, but sentimentality will be his downfall.
The illustrious sculptor prefers Love in the Village to Joan of Arc; he does not seem particularly drawn to such things... In any case, on seeing my Holy Women he asked what they are looking at over there... Hm...
crossed outThe sculptor, selling sculpture. The photographer-painters.
He makes exceptions — he loves the large canvases of Puvis de Chavannes, and then certain paintings at the Salon whose names he cannot even recall but which please him because they please him. That is how I understand art myself.
As for going up and saying that a painting is “very good,” that there are “qualities” in it... and so on.
What does that mean?
It is Tony who says: there are qualities in that. The old eunuch!!
A first medal — the only one — was given to a great machine by one Monsieur So-and-so, who painted Francesca and Paolo, in hell. And Saint-Marceaux says that every time he goes to the Salon he stands in front of it, telling himself: “Ah, there is the painting that received a first medal — good, that is it, yes, well then, next time I shall examine it carefully.” And it is always the same.
How true that is as an impression!
He stayed a very long time; I was quite agitated, knocked over the cigarettes, said witty and amusing things, and tomorrow at ten in the morning I go to the great man’s house.