Thursday, 2 January 1879

What I envy is the freedom to walk alone, to come and go, to sit on the benches in the Tuileries gardens and especially the Luxembourg, to stop at the windows of art shops, to enter churches, museums, to walk in the evenings through the old streets — that is what I envy, and that is the freedom without which one cannot become a great artist. Do you think one gets anything out of what one sees when one is accompanied, or when, to go to the Louvre, one must wait for one’s carriage, one’s lady companion or one’s family?
Ah! Blast it all. This is when I rage at being a woman. I shall arrange things. Some plain clothes and a wig — I shall make myself so ugly that I shall be free as a man. That is the freedom I lack, and without which one cannot seriously hope to become anything.
Thought is shackled as a result of this stupid, nerve-racking constraint. Even disguised, even made ugly, I am only half free, and a woman wandering about alone is courting trouble. And in Italy, and in Rome! To go in a landau to see ruins?!
— Where are you going, Marie?
— Why, to see the Colosseum.
— But you have already seen it!
— Let us go to the theatre or to the promenade; there will be a crowd.
And that is enough to make one’s wings droop.
This is one of the great reasons why there are no women artists. Oh, crass ignorance — oh, savage routine! It is not worth talking about!
Even if one said sensible things, one would be exposed to those common, age-old jibes that are heaped on the apostles of women. Besides, I think people are right to laugh. Women will never be anything but women! And yet... if they were brought up in the same way [as men], the inequality I deplore would be nil, and there would remain only the one that is inherent in nature itself. Well, whatever I say, one must shout and make oneself ridiculous (I shall leave that task to others) to obtain this equality in a hundred years.
I, for my part, shall try to give it to society by showing it a woman who will have become something despite all the disadvantages with which society burdens her.