❦
Thursday, 14 February 1884
I finish the little Canrobert's painting.# Jeudi 14 février 1884
I am utterly, completely fed up with it.
J'en ai par dessus et par dessus la tête.
It is enough to make one climb the walls.
C'est à grimper sur les murailles.
I weep while painting these odious flowers. O cowardice! It is not out of friendship that I commit this forgery. That would be excusable — but... They say — everyone says — that one pushes to get medals at the Salon. Well, there it is. And yesterday Julian recounted that his protégé Maurin said to an influential jury member: get me a medal and the painting is yours. And he cites this as an example of sheer nerve!
Je pleure en peignant ces odieuses fleurs. Ô lâcheté ! Ce n'est pas par amitié que je commets ce faux. Ce serait excusable mais... On dit, tout le monde dit qu'on se *remue* pour avoir des médailles au Salon. Eh bien voilà. Et hier Julian a raconté que son protégé Maurin a dit à un membre du jury influent: faites-moi avoir une médaille et mon tableau est à vous. Et il cite ça comme un trait d'une crânerie !
Oh! everything disgusts me. Oh! to die, my God — to die, to die. [Bottom of page torn out]
— infamous. They will see me drop dead one of these days — through sheer rage, tears, humiliation, and vexation they have made me consumptive. I have seven or eight years left to live. Could I live them as they should be lived, because until... But they say one pushes to get medals at the Salon. Well, there it is! And yesterday Julian recounted — [One page torn out]
— break their heads every day with rage and irritation.
— infamous. They will see me drop dead one of these days — through sheer rage, tears, humiliation, and vexation they have made me consumptive. I have seven or eight years left to live. Could I live them as they should be lived, because until... But they say one pushes to get medals at the Salon. Well, there it is! And yesterday Julian recounted — [One page torn out]
— break their heads every day with rage and irritation.
Oh ! tout me dégoûte. Oh ! mourir, Mon Dieu Mourir, Mourir. [Bas de page arraché]
It is very hard not to believe in a God who concerns himself with our affairs...
Il est bien dur de ne pas croire en un Dieu qui s'occupe de nos affaires...