Friday, 26 January 1883

Ill-omened dreams...
My God, I do not wish to complain, and I am even ashamed to live as I live when so many beings suffer a thousand times more. Those who are disabled and poor and obliged to work.
Yes, it is true from a practical, reasonable, considered point of view — they are far more to be pitied... But there is perhaps in my case something more cruel, something that seems more terrible... But it is impossible — it is not me!!! This does not happen to anyone.
To see a young, brilliant being... This doctor never dared to say the word... He said "not hearing very well, a man who did not hear well." "When one does not hear," etc.
Oh! yes, it must affect the painting too! But why! But what have I done? No doubt I am not just — I enjoy a great fortune, I am spoiled, I do not give enough to the poor. While so many people die of hunger, I am fussy and capricious at table... In short, I commit this injustice of spending on a dress what would feed a family for six months...
But everyone does as I do! It is no less wrong for that. Yes, I know — but there is not even anyone who reproaches himself merely for living according to the milieu into which the accident of his birth cast him. I could have... And yet what could I have done... My family feeds me, dresses me, houses me — but I do not think it would have permitted me to strip it bare... There would have been... In any case...
Ah! Wretchedness!
[Written across the page: This evening we go to the Opéra with the Gavinis, Villeneuve-Bonaparte, Nervo, Saint-Amand, Lahirlé, etc. The Rothschild box.]