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"In the stuclio everything dis- envelope," she says, in the elation appearr," she renjarks in toues of of a morning's rout, which had rejoicing : “one has neither name

shocked her mother, among the nor fanıily ; one is no longer one's mother's daughter. one is one's self.

shops of the Quartier Latin,one is an individual, with before one

"and this envelope is devilishly fenii- Art, and nothing else. One feels

nine ; as to the rest, it is devilishly so happy, so free, so prond 1”

soniething else. It is not I who say

so, since I imagine that all women She modifies her dress to har

are like myself." monise with her new condition (“I wear no heels at the studio,” As the technical difficulties of she remarks, half laughing); makes

execution were overcome, as the merry expeditions into the Quartier novelty of work from the nude Latin in search of engravings, wore off, these realistic tendencies,

, draperies, casts, and other artistic developed by growing age and properties; is discovered by her experience, manifested themselves horrified family driving with her in an intense love of the streets fellow-students in an open cab in and public gardens. the Bois (“elles étaient si gentilles,

“ Have

you ever considered it ? si convenables,” she says); is de- she says towards the end of her life; lighted when, “thanks to my “the street and the passers - by? modest costume, people take me All that a bench contains, what a for some Breslau or other, and romance! what a drama! The look at me in a certain benevo- pariah, with one arm resting on the lent, encouraging manner, quite back of the seat, the other on his different from formerly. Her

knee ; his glance furtive. The woman

and the child on her knees; the woman realistic tendencies gradually de of the people trapesing by (qui trime). veloped and strengthened in this The merry grocer's boy seated and congenial atmosphere. They show. reading a "Petit Journal!' The worked themselves from the first by an man who has fallen asleep, the phil. admirable power of seizing the osopher or the wretch, bankrupt of salient features in her models, a hope, who is smoking. Perhaps I see

too much in it all. . marked preference for drawing sider it well at five or six o'clock in

But just confrom the nude (" like all those who the evening.” are worth anything," says Julian), and a quite extraordinary boldness Her last exhibited picture, the and aplomb of execution. “It's spirited "Meeting" of six vivacious boy's work,” is the judgment of schoolboys, was painted in the the men students on her com- street; one of her last productions petition sketch, and they adjudge was the result of work in a cab; the medal to the sheer force it everything had been prepared for displays.

the commencement of another “M. Julian and the others.” she study of the kind, when death cut says, “have said in the men's studio

short her career. Yet her realisin, that I had neither the hand, the

as the above extract abundantly manner, uor the tendencies of a shows, was not the sham which woman, and they want to know if ordinarily goes by that name. there is any one in my family from which occupies itself simply with whom I derive so much talent aud cynically copying the ugly or the force, even brutality, in drawing, and conuage in work.”

nasty, calling it “nature”; hers

was rather the realism of the true “Of the woinan I have only the poet, who feels and seeks to ex

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press the harmony which lies under we have seen her rejoicing was not all manifestations of life; who more than that measure of emanloves

cipation which an attractive young " everything: the arts, music, paint- woman of society could enjoy withing, books, society, dress, luxury,

out exciting a storm of criticism. excitement, calm, laughter, sad. She was no believer in that “stupid ness, melancholy, chaff (blague), love, equality of the sexes, which is a cold. sunlight; all the seasons, all mere Utopia," but earnestly destates of the atmosphere, the calm sired an equality of education, plains of Russia and the mountains

which would destroy all inequality round Naples; the snow in winter, the rains in autumn, springtime and except-that occasioned by nature its follies, the quiet days of sunımer,

itself. “A woman who prowls and the lovely nights, with their about (qui rôle) is an imprudence," brilliant stars...1 admire and she remarks with her usual good worship everything. Everything sense ; yet she feels very deeppresents itself before me under aspects interesting or sublinie. I should ly the stunting influence of that

restraint which like to see all, to have all, to embrace


her all, to confound myself

with all, and prowling. die, since it must be so, in two or in “'Yon want to go, in Rome, to see thirty years ; to die with ecstasy at

the ruins.' the thought of experiencing this last mystery, this end of everything, or

""Where are you going, Marie ?'

«To see the Colisenni. this divine beginning."

“But you liave seen it already! These the dispositions Let vis go to the theatre or the lirom

And which insured Marie success in

enade, it will be crowdeil.

that's euongh to make one's wings all the subjects she touched; whether it was the picture of a “Ah, how wonien are to be pitied ! inodel, composed with a brutal ver nieu are free at least. Aute in. rcity which astonished Julian him- dependence in ordinary life, liberty to xelf, or a flowering orchard in the go and come. to go ont. to dine at the first blush of springtime; a street

restaurant or at home, to go uu foot waif under a torn umbrella. or her

to the Bois or the café, that liberty is

half the talent. and three-quarters of lovely cousin in muslin and lace; everyday happiness.

But, you will little workhouse boys trudging to say, why do nut you, a superior school, or autumnal mist aud glow- woman, take this liberty? Imposing leaves on the Seine.

sille, for the wonian wlio emancipates

herself thus, the young and pretty • The things are surprises," she

wonian, of course, is almost pnt on na ya," are like windows opened ou to the index ; she becoines singular, rethe lives of penple. . . . It is an in- marked, blanied (toqueo), and consetense palpitating interest. But . . the foule think that to Lo noriern; quently stil! les free then in not shock

ing those idiotic vsuges.' or 'realistic,' it is sufficient to paint the first thing that comes, without Her ideas on the equality of the arranging it. Do not arrange, but

sexes were those of a clear-minded choose and surprise,-everything lies

woman of the world, intensely imthere. The choice makes the artist."

patient of control, but at the same Again and again she reiterates time too clear-sighted to deceive this truth as to the essence of herself in any way on the subject ; realism.

her views on the subject of equalAnd just as her realism was ity in society were those of an that of a poetical and enthusiastic aristocratic mind which reason has nature, 80 the freedom in which led into republicanism. She de

touched; fall.'


of sex.

upon ! ”

tests that form of equality which mounts; it is like the sudden sight is obtained by levelling down, and of the person one prefers.—an emowith sound moral sense justly falls

tion, a warmth, a joy. I blush at it foul of George Sand in this respect.

all alone."

And when her first statue is “How can one read three hundred pages filled with the

doings and words sketched she is nearly beside herof Valentine and Bénédict, accom

self with joy. panied by an uncle or a gardener ?”

“ But this evening, this evening, she remarks in disgust. “ We have

the joy is immense. What!'


will everlastingly social levelling

by means

say, 'has Saint Marceaux come, or of love an ignoble thing. Let equal.

Bastien ?' No, but I have made the ity bo established-that is as it should

model of my statue. .. I have in bo; but let it not be due to caprices

my life sketched two whole figures, The countess in love with

and two or three busts, all left half her valet, and dissertations there

finished, . . . because, working alone,

and without guidance, I could attach To return, however, to Marie's myself to nothing which interested active life. A month after her me, into which I could put life, soul,

--something, in fact, not a mere study. entry into the studio

saw her

To conceive a figure, and have an adding anatomy to her other work, immense desire to execute it-voilà ! and handling human bones and It will be badly done. But what skulls in a way which must have then? I was born a sculptor ; I adore appeared disgusting to her family. form. Colour can never give as much To this and painting, with which, power as form, although I am nad to the great astonishment of her for colour. But form | A beautiful fellow-students, she was advised

movement, a beautiful attitude ; you

round it, the profile changes, while to occupy her spare time, after it keeps the same significance. What two months' work, she quickly happiness! what ravishment! My added sculpture

figure is that of a woman upright,

weeping, her head in her hands. You “I am going to sculpt in the know that movement of the shoulders evenings," she

suys, .. “so as not to when one is crying. I should have think that I am young and that the liked to kneel before it. I said a time is passing, that I am bored thousand follies to it. . . . The model (m'ennuie), that I rebe) —that it is is thirty centimetres high, but it will jorrible.'

be life-size. ... At last I tore



cambric shirt to wrap round this little For whatever reason it was begun, fragile statuette. I love this clay more soulpture soon inflamed her as than my own skin. : . . It is so lovely, much as painting. The fervid the white damp linen covering and descriptions of her conception of draping with graceful folds this supple one of her last pictures, and of body, which I see as it should be. I her sketch of her first statue, are

have wrapped it round respectfully; well worth quotation, as showing

it is fine, delicate, noble," the glowing passion with which All this while, unhappily, Marie's she worked.

presentiments of an early death “To cut short these indecisions, I

were rapidly nearing fulfilment. am going to paint the mist on the “I cannot live," she says near the Seine in a boat. That will do me beginning of the second volume. “I good. I get up at one o'clock in the am not created regularly ; I have a morning to say that I want to paint heap of things too many, then a heap something ! It was because I felt of things waich are wantiug, and a inclined to do nothing that I suffered. character which cannot last... No It is like a flame which mounts and one could be more fantastic, more ex



“I am

acting, luore impatient. Sometinies, though one found pleasure in or perhaps always, there is a certain waltzing with one's aunt." But forin.lation of calm ; but I do not ex

neither bathing nor travelling plain wayself well, I only tell you that

could stop the evil. Soon after my life cannot last."

her return to Paris, she went alone Slie judged but too well. Paints and in secret to a strange doctor, ing, drawing, sculpture, visits to in order to learn the truth. Her Versailles, society, the theatres, manuer of facing it is niost charnight watchings, united to the ex acteristic. Tiens. it amuses me,. aggerated sensibility of an intensely this position of a coudemued being. nervous nature in an uncongenial It is a piose, an enotion; I coumilien, were not calculated to di- tain a mystery; death has touched minish the evil which, as we have 100 with his fingers; there is a cersaid, existed already before she tain charın in it; it is uew at first." settled at Paris. To the cough, Blisters, iodine, care, she refused to the trouble with the eyes, was them all; she would not disfigure addeil a slight deafness, which herself ; she would work on and threatened to iucrease, aud which taste the full of life till the very intensely wounded Darie's amour end. Most touching are the last propre, galled her sense of inde- few wonths of the existence of the peudence, and unspeakably in- attainted girl, the continued fever creased the bitterness with which of life and work; the indomitable she regarded her life.

will with which she coutinued the tormented with the most retined struggle for glory; the despair cruelty," she says in one place; with which she realises that the and in another, “It is as though blow will fall before she can fairly God said, “You have managed to reach her goal. years

workconsole yourself for the loss of ing ten hours a-day to reach what? your voice? Well, how you shall A leginning of talent and a nortal lose your hearing too.'” Later we illness." Touching is her battle find her at a German watering with her idyllic sympathy for place amusing erery one by her Bastien Lepage. “How can one antics, and quietly remarking, “I love when one sees human nature assure you it is sad to make under a inicroscope ?” she asks. twenty-fire persons die with laugh- Her visits to the great painter in ing, and yet not to enjoy one's self," his mortal illness, when she herself On a journey through Spain with could scarcely dress to go to him ; lier family, slie is now " drunk with her bitter, numbed wretchedness, Llood” after that "school for as- heartrending in such a nature, at sassius,” the bull-figlit; now cut the thought that his death may ting her melou as though she were precede ler own; lastly, the break“plauting a banderilla ; ” now ing of even that proud will, and painting a convict, witle the officers the scene with which this paper of the prison arranged in admir- opened, -all these should be read in ing semicircles behind her, and MĪarie's own words in order to taste the rest of the convicts craning their full pathos. That year (1884) their necks to see at least the her pictures (one of them " Les easel from the yard below; now trois rires !”) appeared in the Salon fuming at the very few ideas she knotted with black crape. Their is able to exchange with her com painter had gone over to the great paninus. “To travel with one's majority. These works, which family!" she exclaims,—"it is as displayed to the full her rare

“ Six

The more,

vigour of handling and fearless none the less for that.
realism, were ultimately bought perhaps, for it approaches her
by the French Government, and to our common humanity. And
hang in the Luxembourg. If think of her what we will, we
Marie could have lived to attain cannot refuse to her the tribute
this bonour, how intensely glad it that she was a valiant soul, who
would have made her ! but in her acted up to the motto she herself
case, as in that of many an even had chosen, “ Jusqu'au bout."
less fortunate genius, renown came Our last quotation from these
too late to warm the heart that so pages shall be one which most
yearned for it. And may we also delicately indicates her analytical
add that in her case love also came refinement with the blend of un-
too late? It is hard to determine compromising realism, and is ad-
whether the deep sympathy she mirably characteristic :-
felt for her fellow - sufferer and
fellow - artist was love or merely mire above all else.

“I should like to sing what I ad

I admire friendship; whether the intollectual people who eat, in big mouthfuls, sympathy that existed between mutton-chops composed of fat and them had ripened into something blood. I admire those happy persons warmer; whether, had she lived, who swallow raspberries with pleasMarie could have conquered her ure, without troubling themselves

about the almost inevitable little ingrained aristocracy of nature, and condescended to be the wife I turn them all over, so that the

worms which one always finds in them. of a man of peasant birth.

trouble is greater than the pleasure. Be that as it may, no one can I also admire all those who can eat lay down without emotion the all sorts of things, hashed or stuffed, pages of this diary, in which a of which they don't know the comhuman soul has voluntarily laid position. I admire, ... or rather, I its very inmost fibres bare before envy, simple healthy natures who live

according to habit. us. She was not a faultless heroine, far from it, but we love her


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