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Thursday, 13 March 1884
You cannot imagine this madness — I have got it into my head that the portrait of Claire will be ready by Saturday at four o’clock. I am painting it in the garden, life-size to the knees. It is charming, but...Jeudi 13 mars 1884 Vous ne vous imaginez pas cette folie, je me figure que le portait de Claire sera prêt samedi à quatre heures. Je le fais au jardin, grandeur nature jusqu’aux genoux. C’est très gentil mais...
Bastien-Lepage is better — he has even been out; my aunt swears she saw him getting into a carriage, supported by a lady and Emile. She says “supported” so that I will not be put out by his not coming here.
Bastien-Lepage va mieux, il est même sorti, ma tante assure l’avoir vu monter en voiture soutenu par une dame et Emile. Elle dit soutenu pour que je ne sois pas vexée de ce qu’il ne vienne pas ici.
But I am put out...
Mais je suis vexée...
Well, what would you have — it is how things are; he has other preoccupations, worries, etc. It is entirely natural. Do I trouble myself about X, Y, Z — whom I may even find agreeable on occasion — but whom I would not go to see when I am unwell or out of sorts?
Enfin que voulez-vous c’est comme ça, il a d’autre préoccupations, soucis, etc. C’est tout naturel. Est-ce que je m’occupe moi de X, Y, Z., que je puis trouver même aimables à l’occasion mais que je n’irais pas voir étant souffrante ou ennuyée.
Never mind. But why? Why, why?
C’est égal. Pourquoi ? Pourquoi, pourquoi ?
It makes me miserable for three hours. Le Gaulois speaks of him and of the studies he brought back from Damvillers,1 and announces his imminent departure for Algeria where he will complete his convalescence... That old invalid — that quiet little peasant in love with a loose woman, and what a loose woman at that — the former one, the intimate friend of Mme Cartwright!
Ça me rend malheureuse pendant trois heures. « Le Gaulois » parle de lui et des études qu’il a rapportées de Damvillers... et annonce son départ prochain pour l’Algérie où il va achever sa convalescence... Ce vieux malade, ce petit paysan tranquille amoureux d’une cascadeuse et de quelle cascadeuse encore, l’ancienne, l’amie intime de Mme Cartwright !
Faugh! And there he is, ill and ugly and shrunken. Why occupy myself with him? Bah. I shall find another subject. Good night.
Fi ! Et le voilà malade et laid et ratatiné. Et pourqoi m’en occuper. Bah. Je trouverai un autre sujet. Bonsoir.
So then — have I no interest in life whatsoever?! Must I say, like Flaubert,2 that I see nothing before me but an endless succession of pages to fill — that is to say, canvases to daub?
Enfin je n’ai donc aucun intérêt dans la vie ?! Et faut-il dire comme Flaubert que je n’entrevois qu’une suite de feuilles de papier à nourrir, c’est-à-dire de toiles à barbouiller ?
So life is filled with nothing but work? But if it is sometimes a pleasure, it is more often a suffering. But then?
Alors la vie n’est remplie que de travail ? Mais si c’est quelquefois un plaisir c’est plus souvent une souffrance. Mais alors ?
Nothing?
Rien ?
We shall see — if I do not die.
On verra, si je ne meure pas.
Notes
Damvillers: Bastien-Lepage’s native village in the Meuse, to which he regularly returned to paint. Several of his most celebrated works, including Joan of Arc (1879) and Les Foins (1877), were painted there. ↩
Gustave Flaubert (1821–1880) was famous for his total dedication to writing as a vocation, treating literary work as the only worthwhile end in itself. Marie wryly translates his writer’s vocation into the painter’s equivalent. ↩