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<b>DUFAU, CLÉMENTINE HÉLÈNE.</b> Awards from the Salon, Bashkirtseff prize, 1895; medal third class, 1897; travelling purse, 1898; medal second class, 1902; Hors Concours; silver medal, Paris Exposition, 1900. Picture in the Luxembourg, 1902. Member of the Société des Artistes Français and of the Societ
He ought to remember his dithyrambic moods, but not to be subject to them any longer, nor to yearn after them. Do you know that I have only just now found the time, during my long days and nights in bed with influenza and bronchitis, to read Marie Bashkirtseff? By this time you must be quite tired of hearing from your friends how much Marie Bashkirtseff reminds them of you. I cannot help it.
Some such Stella Klive, Mary MacLane, Hilma Strandberg, Marie Bashkirtseff have been veritable epics upon woman's nature; have revealed the characterlessness normal to the prenubile period in which everything is kept tentative and plastic, and where life seems to have least unity, aim, or purpose.
This institution possesses a drawing by her of the "Virgin with the Christ-Child" and a portrait in oil of a person of the epoch of Charles III. <b>BASHKIRTSEFF, MARIE.</b> Born in Russia of a noble family. 1860-84. This remarkable young woman is interesting in various phases of her life, but here it is as an artist that she is to be considered.
In 1885 the works of Marie Bashkirtseff were exhibited. In the catalogue was printed François Coppée's account of a visit he had made her mother a few months before Marie's death. He saw her studio and her works, and wrote, after speaking of the "Meeting," as follows: "At the Exhibition Salon before this charming picture, the public had with a unanimous voice bestowed the medal on Mlle.
It is probable that the "Meeting" received no medal because it was suspected that Mlle. Bashkirtseff had been aided in her work. No one could tell who had originated this idea, but as some medals had been given to women who did not paint their pictures alone, the committee were timid, although there seems to have been no question as to superiority.
I went back and dined with Mr. Addison. Nothing new to-day; so I'll seal up this to-night. Pray write soon.... Farewell, deelest MD, MD, MD. Love Presto. Childhood, Boyhood, Youth No plot runs through them; they simply analyse and describe with extraordinary minuteness the feelings of a nervous and morbid boy a male Marie Bashkirtseff.
The Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff, wherein are many morbid musings and information as to the development of her mind and anatomy, is intensely interesting; Amiel's Journal holds us with a tireless grasp; the Confessions of Saint Augustine can never die; Jean Jacques Rousseau's book was the favorite of such a trinity of opposites as Emerson, George Eliot and Walt Whitman; Pepys' Diary is so dull it is entertaining; and the Memoirs of Benvenuto Cellini have made a mediocre man immortal.
He had a torturing desire for the presence of Maud, and yet he seemed unable to establish any communication with her; and he felt that the liveliness of the young men would reduce him to a condition of amiable ineffectiveness which would make him, as Marie Bashkirtseff naively said, hardly worth seeing.
I thought grimly that I had probably chanced upon a much weakened and Americanized Marie Bashkirtseff, for though I had only been home a few weeks, it goes without saying that I had read a part at least of the ill-fated young Russian's dairy. Yet in the presence of the grief-stricken face, outlined against the dark leather chair-back, I felt a pang of shame at a thought bordering on levity.
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