Tuesday, 12 January 1875

After a small scene fit for the occasion, I leave for Paris.
How I should love to do without these scenes — but the fact is, when I don't make one I get nothing.
Truly these people will give me a dreadful character. But what is one to do.
Tomorrow is our New Year. I grow sad when I think how holidays are neglected in our household. Holidays such as Christmas or New Year ought to be spent with one's family — it would maintain good relations, respect, and everything else. One ought to pay the greatest attention to small things; they are what make life, and by neglecting them one becomes worse than an animal.
To make an end of the old year I fell asleep at a quarter to twelve and woke at a quarter past twelve in the new year 1875 — but that is Russia, and my own new year began twelve days ago.
The railway carriage exhausts me horribly — if I did not read, I do not know what I should do.

Notes

Russian New Year falls on 13 January (Gregorian calendar), corresponding to 1 January in the Julian calendar used by the Russian Church.