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Thursday, 14 February 1884
I finish the little Canrobert’s painting.Jeudi 14 février 1884Je finis le tableau de la petite Canrobert.
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 people pull strings 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 people pull strings 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 people pull strings 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] infâmes. Ils me verront crever un de ces jours et force de rages, de larmes, d’humiliations et d’embêtements ils m’ont rendue poitrinaire. Il me reste sept ou huit ans à vivre. Est-ce que je les vivrais comme ce serait, car jusqu’à... Mais on dit qu’on se remue pour avoir des médailles au Salon. Et bien voilà ! Et hier Julian a raconté [une page arrachée] leur casser la tête tous les jours de rage et d’agacement.
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...