Wednesday, 20 August 1879

I dreamed of Cassagnac’s wife, red-haired and fat. I went to paint in the countryside, I slept little, I am very tired and ugly. I no longer share yesterday’s anger so keenly: vexation and humiliation followed by tears on the dirty red velvet sofa in my room.
I believe it affected me less a year ago. They do say that violent impressions fade quickly. I no longer remember where I supposed that I would have a passion for this gentleman, which would form little by little and which would be eternal, over which many things could pass without... I shall look for the passage. Do you remember the sort of horoscope that the son-in-law of Mme la Comtesse Couvelet cast for me the first or second time he dined at 71 Champs-Élysées? It is not that I am convinced it has come to pass but I should very much like to know... moreover I do not think I could ever feel a sentiment in which ambition is not mingled. I despise people who are nothing.
New piece of verse, in French this time, received this morning by post.
I believe that all sentiments are made of something and I would not esteem someone who loves a body... I do not explain myself well... it depends on the person, one sometimes loves ordinary private individuals, noblemen or bourgeois who have done nothing in their lives and whom one nevertheless cannot call a doll or a body. A beautiful soul, wit... what am I, myself.
Now, people of talent belong to another category and have a prestige of their own. As for men of genius, great men... we shall not speak of them, the Deceased not being one of their number. They say he is a braggart paid by Chislehurst. How stupid! It is quite natural that, since he has almost nothing, his masters should help him in his elections or pay the newspaper’s deficit, but that does not happen often, the newspaper generally paying its way.
That he should take money to live on is not honourable, but that money should be given for the needs of the Cause is perfectly simple. They also say that women have given him money, that is a great infamy and one would have to see it to believe it. Moreover it is his enemies who slander him, that is quite natural. The reactionaries certainly say that Gambetta is a thief, etc., they treat the governing republicans as criminals, forgers, etc., etc. These are courtesies one owes one another; note that I place Gambetta above Cassagnac, Gambetta had made himself the recognised and admired leader of the majority while the knight is only a noisy, brilliant and spiteful personality; qualities that earn one many enemies among the ranks of mediocre, timid and ugly friends.