Monday, March 27:
R. had a good night, and in the morning we immediately become absorbed in our subject, and R. remarks how platitudinously Rousseau tackled the problem. R. then says that he cannot understand how materialists can be optimistic, which they are - it is really only deists who can be that. He wonders whether one can hope that a community might be formed after the collapse of the existing order which, inwardly committed to a Christian outlook and veneration of animals, would emigrate to better regions. He says he would like to believe it! At my request he begins work on the subject of male and female.
Fidi and Gravina go to Catania, return home for lunch, and tell us what they have seen. Over coffee R. talks about Henry VIII, which he has been reading today; he is astounded by this courtly world, so utterly different from the histories, these cardinals and their feasts, etc. The cruelty is still there, but with more cunning, and mixed with hypocrisy.
We go for a drive to a coastal village, whose prettiness pleases R. Returning, we wait for Garibaldi, who does in fact pass through around 8 o'clock. A wonderful sight: almost the entire population at the station, the train approaches slowly, first a ripple of movement as it is announced, then silence; at last, when the hero's carriage is recognized, hearty cries of welcome, lovely to hear, ceremonious procession of the sick man, whom no one can see, since he has to lie still. The white kerchiefs and the flowers give the children the impression of a funeral; Gravina bursts into tears. It makes a profound impression on R. and me as we stand on the balcony. When the locomotive, quietly moving off, lets out a long whistle, it sounds to me like Earth's lament for its finest sons. Bengal lights and moonlight illumine the scene, the people buzz like a gigantic bird's nest, making harmonious sounds, which pleases R.
Our conversation, when the children return, is devoted to the aged hero; R. praises him from the bottom of his heart and mentions the tragic fate which gave him, without his knowledge, a part to play in the comedy of Nap. III and Palmerston, but this time it was in a good cause; he became a nuisance in the politics he began by serving, “all these frightful politics which lead to the abyss.” R. says that what he most admired was Garibaldi at Capua - there he appeared to have supplied the greatest proofs of his indefatigability and his persistence. But he lays stress on all his deeds, the retreat from Rome, etc., and it does one good to listen to him. While we were on the balcony, he considered how it would be if they were to meet: they would have nothing to say to each other; he, G., would ask R. whether he was a democrat, a Liberal. It is the deeds of such a person which one must recognize; in all else there was a gulf between. I observe that G. would surely admire the greatness and independence of his character. “Yes,” says R., “but in what way would that come through to him?” We wonder whether the cheers of the crowd do not disturb the sick man. “Oh,” says R., “he remembers how he was torn to pieces, how he had to send most of them away; it can't bring him much joy.”
In the evening R. talks to me about Shakespeare. “He is unbearable,” he says, “because he is completely unfathomable! Aeschylus, Sophocles were the products of their culture, but he! And he knew everything.” He again quotes Gonzalo and says he could in fact be made to look shallow and insignificant, and yet in his heart, which had produced a good deed, he held a true knowledge of what was desirable in life, and Prospero also calls him a good man. Regarding Shakespeare's life, R. feels he must certainly have known penury, and he thinks the 16th century was no better than ours - one would need only to ask Cervantes and Shakespeare. Before going off to bed, R. improvises on the Porazzi melody, which once more reveals to me the most secret aspects of my soul, and I go to rest in a mood of bliss. (One incident I must note, since it is typical of R.: he was annoyed to see Gravina smoking during a conversation with me, and he feels it is wrong for us women to allow such things.)