Monday, 10 July 1876

Ah! I am pleased — Binder has been paid. That debt is off our hands.
The day was spent at the beautifiers’ and then in the Bois. I was almost cheerful, for I was much noticed, but this “much” seemed very little after the rather too effusive manners of the Italians.
I have given my diamonds to Mellerio, who will make me some jewellery in the fashion — no, in my fashion.
In the hotel salon I chatted with Rice, with the Vicomte Vigier opposite me; he invariably places himself opposite me everywhere, wherever I happen to be.
“What does Vigier want?” said my aunt.
I really do not know, for he is old and married. Perhaps someone told him I was getting married, and people are always curious to see those who are about to marry, as they are those who are about to die.
That confounded Gioia * in white! She and I were the only ones in white.
Rémy spent the evening with us. At first the conversation turned on my charms and on indifferent subjects; then my aunt withdrew from it and leafed through a book while we launched into a scientific discussion. That is my weakness; I always come round to it.
Rémy was in evening dress, which reminded me of Antonelli [words crossed out]; then Rémy took my hand, kissed it, pressed it... but that is not it. How is it, then, that I find no one agreeable but Antonelli? This evening, for instance, I feel that if Pietro were independent and very rich, I would adore him.
Do not put this feeling down to base calculation, but rather to this: one loves what is strong, free, powerful. With money one is all of that. But think of the host of small disappointments, small letdowns, small wounds to one’s pride that poverty and dependence bring with them, which cool love so much and constantly hold the noblest feelings of the heart in check. Think of all those small attentions that are so delightful and that dependence and poverty rule out.
Think of all that power and wealth can give. The most disinterested, the most austere souls let themselves be swayed by brilliance and magnificence. The loftiest minds are not free of that involuntary respect one feels for the powerful... but what am I saying? It is precisely such minds that best understand everything I am explaining here. Think what joy, what pride I would feel if Antonelli, loving me, followed me to Nice, to Paris! And he cannot! And a thousand things more: think what a delicate position one is in when one is afraid of leading someone into expenses beyond his means, of embarrassing him, of wounding him. One [is] so happy to show oneself to the person one loves surrounded by every imaginable splendour; one is so wretched when one must remain obscure, straitened — straitened!
And then between husband and wife. Is it not a joy to surround each other with attentions, with delicate surprises, to be able to give the woman one loves all those things that the wise regard with the most magnificent disdain and which, in their commonplace materialism, make up the felicity of this world — sparing her all those small frictions, all those small privations that quietly irritate the mind, sour the character, degrade the soul? Try working with your head when your body is ill.
Think how much pain the vile metal that one is ashamed to desire and to honour would have spared me. I would not be tearing myself apart with a thousand doubts: Antonelli loves me, he is free, he is rich... and look — but no! For fear of losing his inheritance he hesitates, he torments me, he abandons me. He cannot come! There he is, wretched and humiliated, subject to his father — that is, to money.
And how wretched one is to see the man one would like to love humiliated, powerless, abased!
Say what you will, write all the novels you like: power and splendour (the vile goods of this world) put a kind of halo around the one we love and almost make us love the one we do not. So true is it that, despite the outcry of all the sentimentalists, it is clearly proven that the strongest minds are liable to be swayed by outward advantages — by the setting. But let us put that aside and look at the matter from the point of view of the heart.
Is it not dreadful to be kept apart by an absurd cause, to suffer doubts, absence, sadness — and because of money! I despise it, money, but I admit that it is necessary.
When one is physically happy, one’s mind and heart are free, and one can then love without calculation, without ulterior motive, without meanness.
Why have so many women loved kings? Because a king is the expression of power of every kind, and woman loves to dominate, but she needs to lean on someone strong, as a frail and delicate plant leans against a tree.
You see! I love Antonelli, and this love is shaken at every moment, now by uncertainty, now by fear. At every moment crushed by wounded pride, humiliated by this ignoble dependence.
I could have loved him very much; I could have had a steady, strong, lasting feeling, and instead I have only a kind of torment that makes me say now yes, now no, that makes me uncertain, irresolute, mercenary, wretched.
No, do not put my conduct down to dreadful calculations! I do not love a man because he is rich, but because he is free, unconstrained in all his movements. I want wealth so as to be able to stop thinking about it, to be no longer subject to that brute force — base, but indisputable, inevitable.
I open my mouth to say more, but everything I could say will always come down to this: perfect moral happiness can exist only when the material side of one’s nature is satisfied and does not make itself felt like an empty stomach.
Love at its height, passion, outweighs everything, but only for a moment — and how much more keenly one feels afterwards everything I have just said!
What I am saying I have not read in books, nor have I experienced it; but let all those who have lived, who are no longer seventeen as I am, set aside that false shame one feels at admitting such things, and let them admit it, let them say whether what I am trying to prove is not right. If someone is content with little, it is because he needs no more, because he sees nothing beyond what he has.