Monday, 7 September 1874

We breakfast entirely as I like; we take a carriage from the hotel and depart. They take us to the Tower of London, which we visit and about which it is useless for me to speak. I shall say, however, that I found nearly everything better than I expected; generally I find things worse. Oh! Where to begin, what to speak of?!!! I am so enthusiastic, charmed, dazzled, that I do not know what to say. Even this overcast sky pleases me; I have always liked it, besides. I tried to find Paris admirable; it is, but something was missing. Paris did not seem sufficient to me; I felt there was something better, and I was not content. But London is everything I have dreamed of: London has everything; London is absolutely my ideal. All the houses, the palaces, the monuments, the churches -- everything is perfectly according to my taste and fits perfectly inside me, in the place that was empty to receive it, like an exact jewel case [Crossed out: and measured for a] receives the jewels for which it was made. I am entirely satisfied, and neither desire nor imagine anything more beautiful, grander, more magnificent, richer, more superb, more surprising, more grandiose, more imposing, more extraordinary, more congenial, more ravishing or more staggering than London! Having seen London, I desire to see nothing more and am perfectly satisfied. I had made plans in my poor little head to live in Paris, and even then I could not settle and said to myself: nothing definite until London. Indeed I was right. Poor little Paris -- I shall no longer dream in you or for you. My extraordinary love for the English, whom I have seen little, and for England, which I had not seen at all, changes through this journey to adoration and fixes for ever my mind and my heart. I thought I knew what I wanted; no, I was mistaken. Now alone I know it. It is brief: to live in England, and as I like. I regret the Duke of Hamilton more than ever, and I shall be in despair if I do not find another like him. Not in looks -- he has no equal there -- but in name and fortune. I hope God will hear my prayer, which rises towards Him at this moment as warm and as fearful and ardent as in the time of my Hamiltonian hopes. Since his marriage I have not known how to pray, and at this moment I feel that I know how to pray, and I shall go and pray. I live, I desire, I breathe! I feel blood in my veins, brains in my head, and ambition, pride and will in my soul and in my heart! But what use is all this if God does not wish it and will punish me for these wicked qualities? What can I say? I hope and I pray. If God were willing... if not... so be it. But I shall pray as much as I can. [In the margin: I saw the Countess and Mlle de Galve in a fine carriage with a powdered footman. How happy she is!] I have done a great deal today: visited the Tower, passed through the City,¹ all the principal streets, and been to Mrs Brown's where I ordered a hat, to Paole's where I ordered a riding habit, and to Wolmershausen's where I ordered a grey costume with green velvet. Then I dined well; for a long time I have not eaten so much. Everything is so appetizing here. I should like to buy everything and eat everything. And what fruit!