Thursday, 10 September 1874

I am a happy nature. The day before yesterday my aunt told us very bad news: that Emile, my poor uncle, died four months ago. Half an hour later I was no longer thinking of it, and only today do I remember to write it down. I had dreamed I was losing a tooth; I shall look up the exact date of that dream. We go to Brown's and then to the Crystal Palace. We visit it despite my aunt's howls. It is only in England that there is anything to see. I had difficulty tearing myself from those statues and busts representing ancient Rome. I love, to the point of madness, ancient and Roman history; once I am in a museum I should like to stay, because there everything represents either mythological or historical subjects. I love ancient monuments -- those temples, those amphitheatres -- everything that is old. The modern tempts me little. But among antiquities I live happily. Because nowadays people concern themselves with individuals and all sorts of trivialities, whereas everything we have from the Ancients treats only of great men and kings. Not only in antiquity, but of what happened two centuries ago, we know and care only about kings or remarkable men. It seems that the world was then peopled with great kings, great captains, great legislators, poets, and filled with palaces, temples, amphitheatres. That is why I love the past: because everything in [Crossed out: in that past] it was great and remarkable. [Inserted passage: One must not think I admire the statues so much; they made me think of what I have said, but I have seen finer and more of them, and I shall see, I hope, marvels of this kind in Rome.] After dinner we have a visit from Foster; he stays a very long time. We speak of dogs and of the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh. I go upstairs, and while undressing I become pink -- not burning, simply fresh -- and find myself picturesque and pretty.