Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Tuesday, 29 January 1884

An example of the vividness of imagination. This morning at luncheon I imagine that when Bastien is in Paris I shall show him my painting — and at the thought that I will have to be there while he looks at it, I go so red that had I not quickly unfolded a newspaper, these ladies would have been very startled by such a sunrise.
I went to see Munkácsy's Christ on the Cross with the Canroberts; we found at this great (?) and fortunate artist's home Princess Mathilde with the little Vicomtesse Benedetti. The maréchale did not introduce me to the Princess — which greatly astonished me and rather wounded me. There was a quarter of an hour of very great awkwardness for me... It is an improper proceeding, and one I cannot explain.
The mansion of the fortunate Munkácsy is a true marvel; his wife is very rich — she was a widow, formerly Comtesse de Marsch. They say the Count had married his housekeeper. However that may be, her fortune is the happiness of a talented man. This visit gives me a migraine; I did not say a word to Munkácsy and had but one thought: to flee.
But the mansion is ravishing — quite ravishing.
As for the painting... it is very large. Christ on the cross between the two thieves, a great crowd around him, a black sky with the figures standing out against it in light tones. Very fine colour. Movement, expressions, physiognomies, garments, superb tones... It is painted very broadly, the Christ...
There is a Christ on the Cross — Christ entirely alone — at the museum in Madrid, by Velázquez, which produces so poignant an effect that one cannot look at it for long. Velázquez was not a dramatic painter, and yet I do not know what produces this terrible impression...
Munkácsy's painting is greatly admired; the Jewish garments with their beautiful tones are dazzling... Women weep at the foot of the cross — but in my view... I shall wait a few days to judge... It did not strike me as tragic enough... Perhaps it is...
It is art... Munkácsy is truly a first-rate artist; in this genre he is no doubt the strongest and the only interesting one — no prize-winning painter of Auroras and Phaedras can be compared to him; it is, for that matter, an entirely different thing, and no one in France at present can be compared to him.
This painting with something more should make one shudder; as it is, one admires it — for I admire it — and I ask myself why I am not moved.
Young Rochefort to dinner this evening... He leaves for Rio de Janeiro for two years, and speaks very nicely of his rank and his career.
Munkácsy's genre is not practised in France; there are two or three who do it in Austria-Hungary, but he surpasses them all. In France, one does not make these enormous bituminous canvases — very interesting, all in all; here one works to sell, and quickly. Munkácsy thinks only of glory — he can afford to.
Dare I say that a less large painting can be more interesting.
And that all in all what I most admire here is that it took long to make — for there are many figures... [Crossed out: but as] and very curious character types, costumes... And he composes it all very well; it is brushed with unrestrained abundance — great effect, great harmony and richness of tones...

Notes

Mihály Munkácsy (1844–1900): celebrated Hungarian realist painter, famous in Paris for large-scale biblical and historical canvases. ↩
Princess Mathilde Bonaparte (1820–1904): Napoleon III's cousin and one of Paris's most prominent salon hostesses. ↩
Bituminous paint used asphalt-based pigments which produced deep, rich darks but were notorious for cracking over time. ↩