Saturday, January 29:
As a result of all sorts of things, particularly the one matter, I am so tired and heavy in the morning that I oversleep through breakfast and have no conversation to note down. But soon everything is back in hand again, confirmation arrangements and also a visit to a poor neighbor whose husband has become insane; she told me all her troubles, and I advised her to consult a doctor.
But R. thought at once of Dr. Falko's institute, and I passed this good advice on to her. R. works, but has first to write to Herr N[eumann] on business matters, performance rights, Paris, etc.
Over coffee he explains to our friend Jouk. what universal guilt means: he says it has now come up for reckoning, just like a son inheriting the sins of his father, and renunciation wipes them out. R. goes for a walk with Jouk.; I wait for Councilor Kraussold; since he does not come, I go to him, then again to the dean. The question of certificates of baptism brings R. back to his main desire for legal adoption.
After supper we read the story “La Danseuse de Samakha” to the end, much moved, particularly by the climax. R. then enlarges upon how vanishing races like these Lezghians still bring forth heroic women. “The Renaissance was brought about by women,” he says, adding that it is remarkable how closely this corresponds to the Sch[openhauer] theory that one inherits character from one's father, intelligence from one's mother.
Returning to the subject of guilt, he says: “Perception and idea, however, are free of sin, except when they are guided by the will. But it is terrible how this will exists in a constant state of desire; from the moment a child leaves the womb, it desires, with all the violence of Genghis Khan laying claim to the world.” Reverting to the question of interrelationships, he says, “Nobody dies before he must, and this produces the interrelationship, the link to everything else, also the incurred guilt.”
A report of my conversation with Coun. Kraussold arouses in R. a desire to read Rothschild's letter to Parson Stoecker, in which he makes fun of the parson. “Of course,” says R., “this question is connected with the continued existence of property, and, as long as things remain as they are, they will be our masters.” The movement interests him, however, and he laughs when I say to him that it seems to be peculiarly German, for in any other country it would simply not be understood.
“Good night, my poor Djehane,” says R., who earlier had recalled how in past sad times I could fly into such a rage that I would smash things and even hit people. This makes us laugh heartily, for it is not at all like me. He jests at scars, that never saw a wound!