Saturday, June 17:
Reading in the newspapers about the destruction in Paris, I am astonished to see that virtually everything of artistic value has been spared. “Yes,” R. says, “the demon of mankind is at the same time its guardian angel; it thirsts for knowledge and, lashing out blindly, as it seems, protects the things which make this knowledge possible. Action is everything to it, in preserving as in destroying. Incidentally, the fact that the Communists really wanted to set fire to the whole of Paris is the one impressive feature; they have always disgusted me with their histrionic style of government, their hypocrisy, their pedantic administration with all its lace trimmings, it is the only way a Frenchman knows; but that their disgust with French culture should bring them to the point of wanting to set fire to it, that really is impressive. As for the Germans, they cannot imagine life without this culture; I realized that when I was planning my Artwork of the Future. I could see nothing developing in Germany, but I did see that the ground giving rise to all our evils was quaking, and so I began then to design a new world for myself.”
In the morning R. exclaimed: “Do you know what note represents all modern music? It is C sharp, the C sharp of the first theme in the Eroica. Who else, either before or after Beethoven, could have uttered this sigh within the complete calm of a theme?”
Stormy foehn weather, making it very hot. Letter from my mother: she sees everything from the black side. I copy out my letter to Baron Schack and send it off. In the evening, Frederick the Great.