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.