Friday, December 9:
There is talk of a religious movement in Germany; a free German church—that would be good. — The Loire army has now been defeated, but Trochu refuses to surrender, and Gambetta goes on lying about victories and triumphs. — Fidi says distinctly: Hermine. — Gambetta and Bismarck are now wooing the Holy Father; Bismarck requests an order from Rome that the Catholic population of the conquered provinces submit to the force of arms (as happened once in Poland). Europe is now busy admiring France again! And R. says: “Two opposing principles are clearly involved here; the Latin peoples, blinded by the French Revolution, have revived memories of the ancient world and expect from the republic bliss on earth; with the republic all evils are expected to disappear, including their own exertion and self-sacrifice. The individual German, on the other hand, suffers from no illusions; being wiser, he recognizes instinctively that no shibboleth can bring the world’s salvation. In the Prussian officer’s ‘What my king commands, I obey,’ which must certainly seem terribly stupid and narrow-minded to the French, there lies a deep meaning and a deep realization that there are certain matters one cannot discuss with semi-morons. I have lived through all these illusions myself and have now got to the point of understanding the meaning of a limited sense of duty.”
In the evening, after playing a few bars, he exclaims: “Oh, all this world suffering, this childishly wailing nursery song of old men! I have given it expression in the thirds of the Norns, I feel as if I have heard it: now it is spring, now winter, now war, now peace, it is all the same.” We again read Strauss’s Voltaire. Remarking disapprovingly about Frederick the Great, R. says: “A king must be strong in endurance, he must reveal his heart by remaining untouched by many things. If in the Jewish affair he had banished Voltaire, that would have been in order, but he preferred to tolerate a humbled, rather than an independent friend. That is the way of kings, and it is brought about by their special position. I know beyond a doubt that, when at the end of Die Meistersinger the King summoned me to his box, he did it only in order to show those people who thought they had an influence over him that this was not so; the means he usually employed against me, he was in this instance employing against the others.”
My Life has now been bound; I beg R. not to make a present of it to the King, so that Fidi will not be deprived, on account of some possible indiscretion, of his only capital (publication after our death). — The demand from the steamship company—about 500 francs—brings us to a dismal theme; R. thinks I have a lot in the savings bank, and I have to explain to him that I have only 2,000 francs (the quartet and the hanging lamp used up the rest). This causes slight concern and arouses despondent thoughts of the children’s future. I promise—as I had already decided in any case—to give no more presents, to spend nothing, and to put my allowance aside regularly. But shall I be receiving this? The state of affairs does not inspire confidence. But in God’s name, I have certainly been given more happiness than I am worthy of, and I put my trust in God!