Diary 1916-1920

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Berlin, Saturday, April 8, 1916

I insisted that F[1] . give me a diary. Superstition – to be lucky. Today after dinner, Mrs. Cornel was there – that might be lucky for me too.

I told F. that I would hold him responsible if I didn’t do well this year. We’ll see. I would so want to be endlessly happy. And I deserve it. And then on that Saturday there was a little row because of that ……

Notes:

[1] Assuming that “F.” means Fuchs.

Wednesday, April 19 [1916]

For F. I am not what I was – I cannot delude myself about that for a moment, only I do not know yet what turn it will take. Will I turn him completely back to me by skillful action, or will I lose him completely by unskillful action, that is, by leaving everything to his fate. The word “completely” does not even make sense in the latter case, because I decided to avoid such a parting scene as with K. I am only tormented by the future, what will happen if nothing happens to him, what will happen to me, to us? A black despair seizes me at the thought that everything always slips through my fingers.

A change, my student told me – in Łódź, Miss Janowska told her last year: Mrs. Baumgarten married a German, and my student said: Mrs. Baumgarten is too good a Pole to do that!

I am actually interested in the psychological basis of this change in F.’s attitude towards me. Something has gone wrong. He is not interested in me at all. Yesterday I told him that I was unwell, and yet this morning he did not call me, even to see how I was feeling. We have little to talk about: he has lost his ……. It is very unpleasant to me. And I am only angry, why is that? Is it because he knows too much about me? I have recently learned from Cornelowa[1] that such knowledge about her greatly spoils my attitude towards her. And it may be the same with me and him, but on the other hand I know everything about him and it does not spoil my attitude towards him very much (and maybe so, maybe he no longer sees admiration for him in me, etc.). The only truth is that he no longer loves me, maybe there is only a little attachment left. He is becoming more and more indifferent to me, I would not like to experience either like H. and K.

Notes:

[1] The “Mrs. Cornel mentioned in prior entry.

Monday, April 24 [1916]

My attitude towards F. in recent days has been somewhat less strange. On Friday he had ………. and I went to see him. He was very nice, although there was no warmth in him. On Saturday evening we were together at Kempiński's[1] for dinner, we were as nice together as we had been for a long time. And it seems to me that in general, in my entire attitude towards him, a colossal role is played by my character, or rather my attitude towards people. I have no inner grace in me. I am as simple as a stick. This inner stickiness does not provide enough content for such a constant attitude with F. as mine, and a certain dryness emerges from it. So that he really becomes susceptible to the grace of others, even that of the bratty Jerudnikowa. This is a general lack of mine, which must be remedied by a certain willpower, because I have become convinced that it is always only with such grace that I gain people's sympathy. Only that in my case it depends on good humor, and good humor on so many other things! But I guess you also have to work out this in life with willpower!

Notes:

[1] A restaurant in Berlin.

Monday, May 8 [1916]

I don't know why apathy has taken over me so completely. Apathy towards F. I'm simply afraid to be with him, because I have nothing to say to him and, strangest of all, I don't try to interest him or myself in any topic. I don't know what will happen next. It seems that it has never happened to such a degree. Something has cooled between us. It's characteristic that we haven't kissed since Makary's birthday. I simply don't know what will happen if this war continues through this winter - the same thing again - trumpet trumpet, no impressions? With this daily meeting in the café. Simply torture. I often convince myself that this whole attitude towards Kazini has a lot to do with it. Apparently, the fault lies with me. I don't have such a clear goal before me as Ada, and above all, I don't know how to gather company around me. That was a mistake with Kazi, because it's still taking its toll. Poor me. Madzia sent her photo with J[1]. I feel as if all the things in her life were successful, which ended in fiasco for me. She got the gold medal that I wanted so much as a child, she left for college without any breaks, she will finally marry early to the chosen and beloved. And me?

Notes:

[1] Rapnael Jonas, whom Madzia met in Geneva and married later in 1916.

Tuesday, May 9 [1916]

Something has come between me and F. I don't know what. When our hands meet - we withdraw them after a moment, as if this mutual touch weighed on us. When we are sitting, he does not seek to be touched - he does not look at me either, when he is in company, I no longer absorb his attention.

Yesterday he was at our place for dinner. Those were sad hours, the four of us[1]. There was no sign that he was in a hurry to get home. Mom herself noticed that he was bored. And after he left, there was a kind of silence that showed how unpleasant it was for us to be aware that he was not feeling well with us.

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, I woke up at night around 4. That was already a bad sign. In the morning, there were also sad letters from the children. I have been walking around all day today as if poisoned. I feel terribly, terribly bad, because I see the whole tragedy of us five. How I pray that we will finally be settled in marriage! I often think that fate would give our sisters happiness before this, than me, but so far neither they nor I have had this happiness. Why are Rózia or Fela being murdered! And Julek! What despair!

What will happen to F? Is it possible for any cordial and pleasant relationship to develop between us again? Actually, nothing has seemingly happened, nothing has been said, and something has happened. Some kind of ghost, some kind of nightmare. Well, he has not offended me, nor I him, neither he me nor I have done anything bad to him, I have not said an unkind word, and yet it has become difficult for us to be together. Is this too much? Or are we already burdening each other. After all, we really have a lot of unused matters and we have a lot in common. So what?

He says so few things to me.

Notes:

[1] Believe Julek was in Berlin; otherwise, not sure who the fourth would have been.

Monday, May 8 [1916]

Notes:

[1] Rapnael Jonas, whom Madzia met in Geneva and married later in 1916.

Sunday, May 28 [1916]

Yesterday there was a Huberman[1] concert – F. sat down next to Sokolow with real pleasure when I showed him the seat there. In the café he sat far away from me. It was the first time since we met that he had sat far away from me in a café. Later, he did sit down and made excuses, but that only got him into even more trouble. Because his place was with me yesterday.

The tragedy of “Kaziow” has begun in general. He doesn’t think about me at all anymore. I feel it in various subconscious, perhaps instinctive actions. I talk about him, tell him stories, I even tell something unflattering (as I did about Julek). When I am interested in a person, when I care about them, I don’t say anything about them. But what is most important and most horrible is that I don’t dare to address him with any warmer, more tender gesture. As if I felt that it was false in me, or more importantly, that it would not resonate with him.

The question remains what to do? I racked my brains over this with Kaz, and I rack my brains now. I've been with this man every day for two years and I don't even know what works for him, what to take from him. And I'm a psychologist?

Now we're in a situation like two tightrope walkers on one rope. The slightest awkward movement by one or the other brings disaster. I can't balance at all. I only have a little feeling for him and the desire for it not to waste away so miserably.

Is it kindness or anger?

Notes:

[1] Bronisław Huberman, a noted Polish Jewish violinist.

Monday, May 29 [1916]

Yesterday I was at F.'s after dinner. Actually, I talked myself into it. However, I had a vague feeling that Yermokukhova would come and call. In fact, someone called while it was going on. F. answered briefly, without mentioning his name (he had already answered this way once, when we were with the Marchlewskis[1]). Almost thoughtlessly, I asked who had called. He answered that it was Jerm. That she had asked how to send letters in Russian to Russia - she and her brother wanted to send letters to Russia. I told him that they were sent to the Red Cross, but he said that it was a pity that I sent her away like that, but tomorrow she would be at Steglit...

Of all this, the only truth was the pity... that he sent her away like that. It was doubtful that she would ask about the letters (now, after 2 years of war, she wants to write to Russia - it's a pity that I wasn't surprised yesterday), besides, he answered - jawohl, nein, jawohl. I was convinced that they would meet at Steglit… I was stupid not to go to the café to take a book instead of at 8:30. He came at 9:15. He came with a mild disposition, looking into my eyes – for peace of mind and knowing the futility of my grimaces at present – I put on a good face he maurais feis. He was affectionate and nice – in Weinstuhe he touched my knees, leaned towards my cheek while eating, brought me Kriegserinnerung etc. When leaving he kissed me several times and said: “mein…. das kindchen einige Tage ohne kusschen sein”[2] – I smiled bitterly in my mind, because I thought to myself: I have been without this for months – he walked me to the tram – and that was it. And I walk around with the indescribable impression that he went from Jermol. to this vilegiatura… Of course, I can check it perfectly well tomorrow in any way I can and I will also make the necessary effort, but if he really did it! It's generally pleasant to deal with a person you don't trust and suspect of dishonesty at every turn. I'm not even sure if she's not staying with him in the evening. And I don't trust him, because I know how skillfully he was able to deceive his people when it came to me.

Notes:

[1] Julian Marchlewski was part of the Spartacus League, but it seems he was imprisoned in Berlin at this time, so maybe his family?

[2] “my... the child will be without a kiss for a few days”

30.V.16 in the morning at 8:30 [May 30, 1916]

It's also interesting that yesterday he told me so casually that he would leave…. not even leave me…. ……. ……. and when I asked him in passing he answered vaguely at 9, another time he mentioned that he wasn't leaving until ten.

Poor me – I didn't sleep half the night because of this again.

Thursday, June 1 [1916]

I wanted to find out Je……’s address at the bank and send her a card, but I didn’t manage to get it. So I have no idea whether she is here or not. I called him before I left and I had the impression as if he had just spoken to someone before …….. and ………., that the person speaking again wanted to tell him what he wanted to say. He wrote in the card that he was pleased with my “telephonischer …….” I have an unpleasant impression that I must have received from his short and not at all joyful conversation.

I had a disgusting day on Tuesday – a little better on Wednesday, because I told myself that I had to be prepared for the worst – today, although I received 2 cards yesterday and one today, I feel the painful constriction of my heart again, as always with a premonition of something unpleasant.

I was at that party at the Chinese man’s yesterday evening. The Chinese engineer Hu was also there. I admired how much self-consistency and common sense there is in this man, I felt unwavering trust in him. His posture and forms are so absolutely correct and so beautiful that even in dance – in tango – he looked as if he was performing some kind of mystery. For example, I felt for the first time that I could simply fall in love with him and follow him anywhere without opposition, blindfolded. And besides, he is small and ugly. However, the power of the spirit is so great in him.

I want to have such power and I don't know how to gain it. What creates it? How does it ………?

I don't feel the ground beneath me and it probably makes a negative impression on others. There is nothing permanent and unshakable in me. My opinions and beliefs are of such a nature that I can always say or act differently at the first opportunity. There is no ………. content in myself, peace. And it seems to me that all this comes from a lack of work, satisfaction with it. I devote myself too little to my work.

- - - - - -

I have this feeling as if absolutely everything F has for me has burned out. When I think about our relationship, I have the impression that he feels it perfectly, but he doesn't want to break off our good relationship with me. What he said about his wife, that he didn't want to divorce her under any circumstances. What can I do to make this great feeling arise in him again?

Wednesday, June 8 [1916]

God, how my heart physically hurts today. As if I had contracted some kind of heart disease. And it's all because of F. Yesterday, his terror when I said that he had addressed the card incorrectly. Today, his explanations over the phone. I have the impression that ... she must have traveled with him. Yesterday, when I told him that the men here are to blame, that Polish women are leaving the city without permission, he didn't say anything to that. I don't know if he meant just me or someone else.

July 1 [1916]

I haven't written for maybe 4 weeks. During that time F. was abroad. He came back a week ago. Since then he has been the same old man from a year ago. Sensitive, cordial, and considerate. In a word, just as she wanted him to be (of course, only in one most important point not yet). I ask myself a question that sounds monstrous: is this an outburst of true feeling, or is it being done for some purpose. For what purpose? I don't know. Timeō Danaōs et dōna ferentēs[1].

Notes:

[1] “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.”

On the night[1] of July 3 [1916]

Maybe I'm wrong to suspect F. of this Jerm. - I don't know. Yesterday I was sure I'd find her there, I came unexpectedly, but I didn't. I was there last week and this week on Sunday. Will that change his intentions? I don't know. In any case, I dream of Chinkowski. And I'd really like to go to Switzerland for those two weeks. What if?

Dawid was here. He didn't even call, even though he was there for half a day. Later I went to F. and stupidly came back very late. In the meantime, he was emablaging[2] with my mother, because he called at 10:30 p.m. I have a great grudge against him for that reason.

When I think about Faj. about Hor., about War., who thought so warmly about me, and yet they even consider themselves happy, I can't get over how deceitful it is. Another love would lift them up... and the intensity and quality of happiness, they would be the kings of life, when they are beggars, living only on the waste that falls to them. For me now the most important issue is not to become a similar beggar. And this is coming, even with F.

Notes:

[1] Not sure what this means other than a sense that this was not her usual time to write in the diary.

[2] The Polish word is “emablować” which appears to mean something like surrounding a woman with special consideration.

July 6, Thursday [1916]

Yesterday I was with F. at Kempiński's. Strange, we talked to each other as if we had known each other for only a few days or weeks. He was absolutely interested, just like at the very beginning of our acquaintance. I wondered in my heart not at this current interest, but that there had been a time, and a very recent one at that, when we could say absolutely nothing to each other for lack of a topic. Of course, there was a certain inhibition then, probably due to a sense of guilt on his part (taking an interest in someone else) and on my part

Tuesday, March 26, 1918

I was at F.'s on Sunday. The Vogts were there. I was convinced once again that even in such a well-matched marriage - a medical professor, she a medical doctor and they got married out of deep love - there is no absolute commonality in terms of ancestry, but deep down he is German, she French.

David is coming for 8 days with Klara... I wonder how he will behave.

F. was very nice on Sunday and since that day I have had a better feeling for him - I was convinced once again how feelings change - on Saturday I would have torn him apart, on Sunday I returned from him with a good, cheerful feeling ready to forget everything - but what good does it do that again neither yesterday evening nor today all day long he did not find a moment to call.

The last mistake I made and which simply cannot be corrected is that day of November 11. When he celebrated his anniversary so warmly. He should have been pinned to the wall then.

Yes, there is no cure for stupidity. I feel strangely old… like I'm an old, crumpled granny...

1:30 a.m. [March 27, 1918]

I was at this Vecsey[1] concert. I came absolutely enchanted. That is, to play – there was no end to the ovations – he played for an encore from 10:30 to 11:15.

When I looked at him like that, I had before me the type of man absolutely blessed with the graces of fortune: a talent for acting – one of the most beautiful in the world, young, handsome, rich, healthy. When he stood there on the pass surrounded by a clapping crowd, women smiling at him and ready to give him their all, as he smiled and waved a white handkerchief joyfully in farewell, he seemed to me to be the god of happiness. The red carnation in his buttonhole was the purple not of blood, but of the ………….. fiery kiss that the eyes of the delighted listeners threw at him from all sides. He laughed with happiness, with this adoration surrounding him.

I felt so poor, small, without talent, without happiness, without anything. During the concert I kept thinking about my old age, which looks like this ………….. I'm afraid that it will come true just as my ……….. after graduating from university came true about not getting married.

Simply all hope is in this M.

Notes:

[1] Franz von Vecsey, a Hungarian violinist.

March 27 Thursday [1918]

I was dreaming so beautifully about how I would spend this 1st Easter evening. Meanwhile, F. was as bad as a dog and spoke to me vulgarly twice - once he said "ihr (me and Fela) seid vom sozialismus ungerauchelt"[1] .

F. also spoke on the phone today in such a way as to get rid of me. He lies to me in the ugliest way. In order to justify his leaving the house ... he says in the morning, warning in advance, that he is going to the post office to have some fun.

D. arrived, but of course he did not let me know that he was there. Knowing his character, I should have assumed that he would come to us the day before he left.

These are my 3 German Flamms[2] . Apparently they are all dying.

Notes:

[1] Seems something like you and Fela are “smaoked’ {intoxicated?) by socialism.

[2] “Flames” – not sure who “3” are—Fuchs, David, and (Kazio)?

Friday, March 29 [1918]

David was there. As always "in love". Three-quarters of this love should be attributed to these printed cards of mine. Today I had the impression of Kazio. The same type. Kazio probably "suffers" just as much as he does. Swindlers.

Strange, F. hardly calls me these days.

Saturday, March 30 [1918)

Yesterday I was at ……… evening for this family feast. Dav. was sitting diagonally from me, and I was next to Klara. He listens to her with gestures. He is like a dog being led on a leash. How he trembles before her!

When I was looking at David yesterday, I thought to myself how shallow this man is, how little he would give me in marriage and that… every man has the wife he deserves.

I am coming to the conclusion that there are probably no men who deserve me.

6 pop.

I don't know why my heart is bursting. It has been a long time since it has been so painful. Whatever I do and do, I do it with such a heavy feeling as if I was lifting hundredweight. Brrr… such emptiness and loneliness. I feel Rózia and Fela from a distance and my heart aches.

Sunday, March 31 [1918]

I spoke to David by phone. He said he had been sleeping since last year. I said I would wake him up, "Wenn es der Mühe wert ware!"[1] Characteristically, he said "I must be very nice to you, my Lady!" (Is there no way I can do that!). He promised to come within a month. He is absolutely pulling my leg. A coward and a scoundrel. Today I am making fun of the whole thing.

It's strange that every time David is here, I have a "neue bertrage" for this "wife" drama.

I wonder if I will ever put him on?

Notes:

[1] “If it were worth the effort.”

Monday, April 1st [1918]

D. is leaving tomorrow morning. He was supposed to call at 11:00 today to see if he could see us again, but he didn't, and I can't forgive him for that. He didn't even say goodbye to me. Yesterday he said he'd be here within a month, so I decided not to even accept him. I'm drawing a big line over him.

Tuesday, April 2, 1918

Yesterday, D. was with his wife and Truda at his uncle's, met my mother and told me to bow. In view of this, I decided not to see him at all when the time came and to treat him like a dog. From now on, he ceased to exist for me. I only got to know him through and through now. And I told him well: the game is not worth the candle.

However, one thing is interesting to me: Dawid makes a very nice impression and lets himself be liked, the same impression was made on me by Kazio, M. Adler - as for all of them, I have become convinced that they are bad, evil people at bottom and that they are basically stingy. So why this nice appearance? Do they want to gain people for themselves with this sympathy, in addition to their stinginess, who would pay them? Whether this nice appearance is dependent on other qualities they possess, I do not know. And yet the fact is that both Dawid and Kazio are generally very attractive to me and that they are notorious scoundrels. I am faced with a riddle.

F. was at my place on Sunday evening, because he went with me to Dora's. He brought me a bouquet of lilies of the valley (for him that is already a lot – flowers!) two bottles, a book and a wonderful Chinese woodcut. I asked him jokingly if he loved me, he replied as if reproachfully, how could I ask him that, and yet, despite the fact that I asked a second time, he did not answer openly. It seems that he has given me so much, because he must have done something wrong. Today he excused himself from going for a walk, although he promised – he did not call and is probably wandering somewhere. It would be best for me if some man, completely unknown, appeared now, so that we would fall madly in love and he would carry me far away from here – beyond all the mountains and forests. And from there, so that I could spit on everything. Dream…

Rubinsztein said yesterday that Radek[1] and Radkowa were thrown out of the ministry, even when she came to take something else that Radek had left, Petrar ordered her thrown out through the valet. I have the satisfaction that Eilenburg heard it, he will probably tell Fuchs literally.

Notes:

[1] Maybe (can’t reconcile with the various names here) Karl Radek, who was a Russian revolutionary and active in Berlin before WWI, and was around this time Vice-Commissar for Foreign Affairs in Russia.

April 4 [1918]

I sent my Freud to the publisher today. I don't know if he'll accept it. If he does, there'll be some glory in it.

April 11, 1918

A few days ago I read in the newspaper that Faj.[1] would be giving a lecture at Urauji[2]. I arranged with Cieklenstemowa and we both went. When I arrived, he was already there, we greeted each other, he said I hadn’t changed a bit, he would have recognized me right away. We went out for a walk around Siegesallee and talked. First of all, his second son was born 3 weeks ago. This news was very unpleasant for me. But apart from that, he didn’t tell me anything about his wife, except “I really wanted to be in Munich, and so did my wife.” We talked a little about politics, about the war, he doesn't like Germans very much and I thought with more admiration than bitterness how two such feelings can be used in a human soul: on his part causing someone pain with refined meanness and a tender farewell, which was absolutely sincere, and I, also tenderly saying goodbye, which on my part was completely and completely sincere, had in my soul a plan of revenge, which I intend to carry out tomorrow. Yesterday M[4]. proposed something to me that could be a scientific happiness for me. It came unexpectedly, but it could work out and be something.

Notes:

[1] From clipping enclosed in diary: This is Kazimierz Fajans, a noted chemist born in Warsaw. From Wikipedia biolgraphy, I gather they knew each other from Zurich.

[2] Probably “Urania,” a society with the aim of making scientific findings accessible to a lay audience.

[3] A famous Berlin café.

[4] Moritz Tramer?

Thursday 25.4.[19]18.

It is characteristic that this Mour[1] has not called me so far.

I was at the Russian embassy today on the subject of some fugitive. They are staying at the Elite Hotel, room no. 220. Various figures flashed along the corridor – all of them generally well dressed. In the room in question, this Geschäftsführer, a Jew, elegantly dressed, black as a devil with a gold tooth, settled this matter for me very well and very coulantly. During the conversation I asked him about Joffe. „Вы мне скажете обь товарищь Joффе?”[2] he asked the man standing next to him. Although I was an opponent of the Bolsheviks[3], I had a very positive impression - you can see that these people are trying to handle the matter well (this effort is visible in the first place), that they understand the importance of their role and handle it with seriousness. All this is complete. It is interesting that they are establishing relations with Mensheviks here - their acquaintances. Apparently, the Berlin ground - as neutral - mitigates many things.

Notes:

[1] Moritz Tramer?

[2] “You tell me about comrade Joffe.”

[3] So, Franka side with the Mensheviks in her politics with respect to Russia.

Saturday 27.4.[19]18

I spoke to Mour today, as I see he has no desire to see me. Promises – goodies.

F. has not written a word so far. Yesterday I was at Dora's, who started a conversation about F., I told her a little, but can I tell her everything? Too humiliating. But Dora said one thing, which shows that everyone else sees the world differently than I do: she said what he thinks

9.4.[19]20

I was thinking today how many little mean things and nasty things that F. did. He showed me the bedroom furniture, for example—how cruel it was, if he already had someone else in mind!

Yesterday I sat down again for a few hours to work on the drama—it's almost finished. I think now that with the same cruelty—cold, merciless in its sense of necessity—as he married, so I prepare my drama with the same ruthlessness. This winter I was dying from the pain of this event; next winter—he will be moaning and gnashing his teeth. I wrote this drama with blood and in pain—I revise it with calm—as if it were no longer mine, but a complete stranger!

Among my desires is the desire for inner peace—I am increasingly indifferent to people now and no longer care about them. It seems that the greatest feeling within me of all is contempt.

I sent my tired fairy tales to the Berlin Tageblut. If they accept it for me – then I will go for this ……… - otherwise – again for a long time ………… And that would be a pity.

11.4.[19]20

My misfortune was that I almost never, especially since the war, asked myself what would happen next. I'd given it so little thought over the past few years, because the war events were so strange, and the entire European situation was constantly being cast in such a different light, that I couldn't think long-term. I'd ruined my life with this, not all of it, but a whole chunk of it. I shudder to think that last year I didn't even consider what would happen to Mom when she came,[1] what would happen to me if I didn't marry F., and I let the events unfold one by one... one after another, more horrific...

Now, it's really too late to break down... A lot of bad things have happened that simply can't be fixed. Nothing in life can be fixed at all.

Notes:

[1] Not sure what this refers to. Guess may need to await 1919 diary.

13.4.[19]20

I'm so angry that I no longer speak to people, but I shout. My unresolved (unresolved?) anger manifests itself against everyone and everything.

14.4.[19]20

Today I started berating myself – if this keeps up, I'll end up with dogs. If last year I didn't think of him even once, where does this despair come from now, this constant thinking about him? I'm most angry at myself for it. It's all my pride. I only wonder if the same thing is happening to him – that's the question that torments me, whether he also didn't care about me last year, and this year he's started thinking about me again.

Strange, I just read in my diary from last May that I don't think anything of F., as if he didn't exist anymore. I remember that feeling well, which I even wondered about myself. I wrote it down in Hilferd's[1] book. You can tell that the feeling had fallen asleep, and now it's awakened again. If it's because I have no one around me, then to destroy the remnants of this completely hopeless state, I need to take care of someone again. I'm already thinking that instead of this state of affairs, it's better to start with H., knowing in advance that he won't give me true feelings, but only passé-temples. But at least there will be pleasant moments, no loneliness and no terrible feeling of emptiness. Work, work, work – above all.

Notes:

[1] I am assuming that this (and other diary references) are just shorthand for Rudlof Hilfedring.

19.4.[19]20

One unpleasant thing remains of F.: when, for example, a man smiles at me, when he's being nice to me, I immediately think – oh, F. smiled at me like that too, was nice too, and nothing came of it. There's a certain contempt for worldly things and a lack of importance to anything. That's the unpleasant thing.

It's interesting that I can't imagine him telling another woman anything, that after he confessed everything to me, he can't be so intimate with any other woman. Meanwhile, he can't imagine now (if he loves his lady) that he could be so honest and confessive towards me.

I think a lot about Hilf., what kind of person he is. I think there are many noble things about him.

29.4.[19]20

Yesterday evening, I came home very tired and furious with myself for …………. and for this misery of mine. Loneliness was eating away at me. I decided to call him. I did so immediately, and he immediately agreed to meet that evening. I went – we spent about an hour and a half together, and it was quite pleasant. But… is he the solution to all the issues that plague me and are related to this love problem?

If only I could understand myself! That would be half my happiness. For example, here's my behavior today:

Ms. Demsewicz arrived with …………. and showed me a photograph of Lasker with them. I expressed a desire to meet him – she promised to introduce me to him.

This evening I was at a psychological meeting. Halfway through the reading, a man comes in – because Rutke is showing him the seat (and I knew they were friends), and the photograph reminds me of something – I immediately think, Lasker… so I'll meet him. Lasker reaches Rutke – Rutke reaches me, the three of us stand there, I feign indifference – Rutke asks me to stay with them for a break, I agree – he asks the same of Lasker, he agrees – then we settle some financial matters with the chairman, and I, unexpectedly for myself – leave! Alone and alone at an early hour!

Someone explain to me why I left, why at that moment I seemed to completely forget that I wanted to stay with them – why didn't I remember for a moment that I wanted to be with Lasker and had a perfect opportunity to do so? I probably will never be able to understand this, this subconscious of mine. Oh, my bottomless stupidity!

And I always fail to act properly. I should have, and even wanted to go to Hersteniowa, but stupidly, I didn't go. And I always waste my pleasures. I thought for a moment that maybe because of the nervousness I always feel before my time… yes, but I doubt it, there is a system in my life.

May 2 [1920]

Fela arrived.[1] A picture of misery and despair. Only then do I recognize what these "student" women lack. This lack of purpose, a defined direction in life. This lack of thinking about the future.

Looking at her emaciated body, the significance of which she seems completely unaware, and hearing her speak, I went numb. I blamed myself for letting her go out into the world alone. Now I feel like it's all too late for her. I see no way to stop her from this slippery slope.

Notes:

[1] Not sure from where! Entry from August 24, 1914 suggests she was in Warsaw then. She would have been 33 years old, but Franka still describes her as a “student.”

May 9 [1920] Sunday

One day I called him before evening – it was the first real phone flirtation I've had in a while. There are times when I can do it, and others when I'm completely powerless against it.

I was at Rotten's yesterday.[1] I admire her practicality. She was in England. Now she's being invited to Elepaiede for a month. Where can I go to see her? Socially, where I want to excel, she's accomplished everything, and I haven't. I've also discovered that she's not very elegant – for example, they ask her for an article on the impact of the war on the German mind, and she asks me for the literature I've so painstakingly collected. Would I dare do something similar?

Notes:

[1] Would appear to be Elisabeth Rotten, a Quaker peace activist.

May 23 [1920]

I've been an aunt since yesterday. Madzia... gave birth to a daughter. When I left her, I know I uttered some terrible curse against F. That night I dreamed about him, that scoundrel.

For several weeks now, I've had a suspicion that Hilf. is preoccupied with this Thesing[1] . Perhaps I'm right, preferring her company to mine. It was stupid of me to approach her so late at the very beginning of winter.

Yesterday, I was thinking how completely uninterested he is in me. Seeing me is nice to me—otherwise, he won't even bother to call. Nothing.

I ruined my relationship with him—with the bottomless stupidity of last year. Talking about the purpose of the trip to Switzerland. Responding inappropriately to all his proposals, etc. I can't comprehend my stupidity today, just as I can't comprehend other things about my relationship with F., for example, etc.

And now I keep asking myself, what will happen? What should I do with myself? Who will I meet again? Where and how? Yesterday, I felt like I said to myself: yes, I have to let him go. Why bother with such a relationship? And in the face of this resignation, I seemed to calm down a bit.

Notes:

[1] Apparently, Rose Lanyi Thesing, who was married to Carl Thesing, but divorced him and married Hilferding in 1923.

25.5.[19]20

It's strange that the moment I decided to completely disregard the world, not even wealth, and be his—then... he doesn't seem to care about me. It's that eternal misfortune. I don't care about the world at all now, but circumstances don't allow me to disregard it at all.

I was at Dora's yesterday—they were talking about F. I really regretted not talking to her at all, but what can I do? I know it might have unpleasant consequences. Soil (Soit?). Today I wrote again about my drama, we'll see.

Wednesday 26.5.[19]20

The woman's heart is broken.

Literally, I'm getting worse every day, and the thought of F. doesn't leave me for a moment. Apparently, and because no one has replaced him. Last year, I remember it well and it's written in my diary, I didn't think about him for a single moment. If I had even two days like the ones I've been experiencing since his marriage, I would have been with him long ago. Now, of course, my path is closed. But what a tragedy! This is …………... that's destroying me. I'm morally ruined. I don't feel like doing anything, and I can't imagine my spiritual rebirth.

His wife once wrote to his publisher: …….. ist …... jeder nufraien Handkug fak…. - but he is capable of many good things at the same time, and I didn't bring them out of him. Compared to many men I now see and meet, he is a kind of exceptionally good man. If I had more self-dignity, many things would be different. I've often reproached myself for not doing enough work on the Committee, etc.

One thing is important now: I often wonder about my relationship with people, about social hypocrisy, etc. I've asked myself why this hypocrisy exists. I haven't been able to find an answer yet, but it seems I have one today:

A person (almost everyone) is made up of flaws and virtues and is capable of manifesting these flaws and virtues at any moment, that is, being good or bad. The art of being around people lies in the ability to bring out the good and suppress the bad.

I think this ethic has instinctively sensed this. If we compliment people, by saying something pleasant, we evoke in them a good disposition, good feelings for us. When we say something unpleasant to them, we evoke these unpleasant feelings. When we are helpful, tactful, and kind, we are mostly met with gratitude, courtesy, and so on. When we don't say anything bad (we don't gossip, either). When we don't talk about ourselves, we don't praise ourselves—we don't provoke envy in others, for example, or bad feelings. People like modest people because it fosters their self-esteem.

Flattery evokes good feelings for the speaker, although it is also detrimental to the flattered. But whoever only cares about evoking good feelings for themselves, of course, doesn't care.

In the name of inciting only good feelings, one must not say anything bad about others. But... what's the point of righteous indignation and noble protests, etc.? Perhaps only because this principle has been violated. Where the principle of evoking good feelings is violated, one should be outraged.

Pushkin " „И долго буду тем любезен я народу,

Что чувства добрые я лирой пробуждал .” [1]

To stir up good feelings! That's why the war was so terrible, and that's why the persecution of any person is disgusting (but there are persecutions of exploiters, because they provoke bad feelings with their exploitation).

In any case, in a person's personal life, one should remember: Halte die Beastie! [2]

Notes:

[1] An oft-translated poem. Dylan Thomas translated these lines as “In centuries to come I shall be loved by the people
For having awakened noble thoughts with my lyre,”

[2] Something like “keep the beast within”, but I haven’t found the source.

28.5.[19]20

It's strange how I still remember this F. This morning I woke up with a vivid memory of some scene from the time of his "love," and so on.

Fortunately, a card arrived from Rózia informing me that an article about this [rackist?] had been reprinted in an American newspaper, then in a Swiss one. So it was translated into several languages, including Danish. A triumph, by the way.

May other projects somehow succeed! I've started working in the laboratory on a project I started at Wrenner's, then at Külbe's. Maybe now something will come of it.

5.6.[19]20 (Saturday night)

I've been thinking strangely about Hilf for the past week. I've been thinking about him very seriously (actually, without any vivid, pleasant thought - …………) about him. I have an instinctive feeling that I shouldn't call him, or impose myself on him, or ask him anything – I should stay away from him. I'm convinced that he chose Thering instead of me, which is so bothersome to him, and maybe he'll be stuck there for a long time. I messed up that too by not striking while the iron was hot, but simply not being ready for it. Now it might be too late with him. As long as I don't regret it, only God knows how things will work out with him. I've gained so much from this whole affair with him that I've become fully aware of all the issues.

Now the elections will be over[RS1] , so supposedly he's free, I don't need to spend too much time discussing the fact that of course he won't call me, so what will happen to me next?

Notes:

[1] Presumably, the June 6, 1920 elections, for the first Reischstag of the Weimar Republic.

6.6.[19]20

I've managed to understand a lot of things in the world, but not myself. Actually, one thing remains a mystery to me: my relationship with people.

When I'm in company, I seem to be the most sociable person, but inviting someone over, hosting someone is simply torture. Perhaps there's a childhood complex at work here, when every guest evoked fear that they would notice something amiss in the rooms—later, I was embarrassed to host because of my mother's interference—now because of this bed in my room. And it will continue like this. There will always be something missing. I'll never have what I naturally desire, my own home with a reception room, where everyone will be treated as I desire.

But I think a bad dancer's apron hinders the fact that I could still host all sorts of people.

That's one thing. And the other is this unpredictability, this doing everything, especially spending time without any plan, without any thought. I could really spend these Sundays differently, but meanwhile, I see absolutely nothing, I don't spend time with anyone – in short, a complete social fiasco.

So I can't blame Hilf at all. Thernigowa has the same social sphere as him: she's married, lives freely, has been through several relationships, is pretty, and very kind to him. Things are going great. Why should he think of me, who has none of the above advantages? Why establish such an uncomfortable relationship? Last year, when she was busy with Niewlai, well, that was one thing, but now? I think of him with a certain serious calm – as a loss. He won't call, even now, after the 6th, and if I do, he'll have some excuse. Why bother with him? Shake it off, that's all.

It is what it is – and I've matured a lot through this whole negative relationship, after all. I was recently prepared to live with him on faith, to ignore anything and anyone, to live at least with him in those two rooms, to work for him... well... fate won't accept this sacrifice from me. Except that now, thinking about him, I feel no pain—nothing. I don't even feel the urge to call him. That's the only good thing.

So now the question is, what to do next? Poland flashed before my eyes several times. Going back there? Horrible. Again, adapting to new conditions, I don't know if they're better... Maybe I need this trip a little academically—but will it give me what I want? This………. ……ylation—………how I dread it!

It seems to me that the summer has flown by without me… I feel so incredibly bad. I feel like I need to think, I need to construct some kind of plan for a new………life.

I've read my diary from my spring acquaintance with Hil, and I'm convinced that, when it finally unraveled, ………… ……………. the situation. Dealing with him was a whole series of mistakes ………….. and ………… actually, spiritually, she's only just grown up with him today.

I have a feeling I might learn something about him soon, that he's marrying, for example, Thuring.

I've just resolved not to mention the name of any of my friends in the future, even to Rózia or Julek – the disappointment hurts very much later.

Interesting. I was so distraught that I didn't do anything scientifically. This winter, however, psychoanalysis did a bit for me, pushing me to work in the laboratory, the chess player gave me a contract – now I'll take this "Sinfuklug" test – and this characterology will be something new. If "Children's Reaction to Beretrung" and "Talentwolle Kinder" are published, there will be something after all.

Although I will only consider this work on thinking to be scientific.

In Anatole Frame: La virginité est plus difficile à prouver qu'à garder. / L'ile de …… 103

7.6.[19]20

Last evening I spent a lot of time thinking about how I should act and what I should do – today, during my internship, I learned what theory and practice mean.

I was at Simon's bank at 2:00 PM. Simon's wife arrived, joined me, talked for a few minutes, and then went to her husband's branch. I thought to myself, "They're probably going to dinner with Hilf." After a few minutes, I heard a voice at the door, like Hilf's. I deliberately peeked out, and it was indeed him. He came to me, greeted me, asked what I was doing, and told me to wait for him. He repeated this twice. Anyone else would have waited, gone to dinner with him, but I, of course, didn't. I left immediately – though I did turn around later and saw them later at the corner.

That's not the point, although of course, having such an opportunity to be together is already a great thing. But I noticed this terrible embarrassment I felt inside, both towards Simon's wife and towards Hilf. I simply couldn't imagine what I would be saying to him... He seemed very self-conscious too, not looking at me at all as he spoke... Only after I'd already traveled a good distance on the tram did I somehow breathe a sigh of relief and feel lighter.

So what can I do with myself? Develop social freedom? Reinvent myself every day? When the decisive moment arrives – versage them. So what will come of all this?

8.6.[19]20

Today I spoke with this Keisinger woman who boasts so much about having many friends. I asked her about this art – she told me that she never says anything negative about the people who come to her house, that she tries to see only the good qualities. For example, when I recounted yesterday's incident with the Simons (in general, of course), she said that she would never think, when someone asks her, that it's insincere, etc.

It seems to me that there's a big problem here: insincerity towards other people creates the idea that others are insincere. This is what I've always thought: purity of intention is also the alpha and omega of social life. Sociable people absolutely want someone to be at their place – they invite them sincerely. Many people, on the other hand, are essentially indifferent to me. And I can't do what Landowska did, and my friends are a capital I accumulate and whose interest I collect in times of need.

But this, too, has to be different. Last night, I was thinking about many things I should change about myself as soon as possible through sheer force of will, and I felt a tremendous amount of willpower. Change must happen, or I will die.

9.6.[19]20

Despite all my good intentions and resolutions, I treated Fela very badly yesterday. I constantly criticize her. She offends me at every turn, but I don't know if my harsh treatment will do me any good. I can't control myself at all, and these mood swings are terrible. I would write: sphere……….

11.6.[19]20

I called him – at the wrong moment. Supposedly about the book. He woke up. He has a sore throat. I responded horribly, for example, I said he'd be fine, which he must have felt very painfully – simply as a tactlessness.

I've felt the whole last few days that this was the end; I saw so clearly that there was simply nothing more to be done about it.

I've messed this whole thing up with him. Perhaps my life would be better with him than without him.

Thering will take the place I so recklessly rejected last year. She's like his dream mistress. I don't offer him the slightest interest as a woman. He probably thinks I'm an old maid chasing a man.

A cross. With a heavy heart. I'm crying right now, but I've never seen so clearly how I lose people because of my shortcomings.

For example, I keep moaning about my lack of relationships, meanwhile:

When Hirsch asked, I didn't go. I made an appointment with Simon – I didn't go.

I didn't go to Ni……, the Revees didn't call Kleinmanowa, I promised, I didn't invite her to my place, etc. And this is how I end up breaking up with people. I recently spent all night thinking about how it's been like for me since childhood, how the same personality trait ruined my life in Krakow and Zurich, and later after my doctorate, and I want to start fighting this personality trait. I have to overcome it!

I thought a bit this morning, anyway, I was very worried – then, strangely enough, I felt a little lighter. Intellectually, this whole affair with him wasn't the brightest idea: I'm not talking about the material aspect, but I simply don't know what it would be like technically. Thering has the advantage of always being in his company – either he might get very used to her, or, thanks to the fact that she couldn't keep Thering and Nicolai close, it will end in failure with him, though I doubt it. It's possible that all their external conditions are right (which I sincerely wish him), but she won't suit him physically at all – that's important too! But never mind that.

I don't feel any more bitterness – even after dinner, I felt strangely light. I know myself well enough to know that the time will probably come again when I'll deeply regret him, but now I think to myself, my hands are untied, and I can look back with a clear conscience at someone else. In fact, if you believe my feelings, I'm happy and light, as if I'd been relieved of a burden.

I made a million little mistakes with him. The worst was that 1) when he gave me an ultimatum, that instead of dragging things out a bit – she immediately said, "No, then no." 2) When I returned from Switzerland, I made the worst bunch of mistakes – not with the gift, not joining Thering's company then, etc. – I've also sinned more than once recently. But for now, it would definitely be better for me to get married well now, and as quickly as possible. I wonder if this lightheartedness is because something new and good might happen to me?

13.6.[19]20 (Sunday)

I feel this phone conversation similarly to the one with Minkowski, after which I said to myself: "Cross. I won't call Hilf again. C'est fini. It's my fault, of course."

I spoke with Barchan yesterday. She told me that in some people (scientists, artists), the instinct for life is exhausted in their profession. Maybe that's right, maybe my instinct for life is exhausted in a completely different direction and won't last. I've noticed that I have far less of this instinct now than I did before, perhaps precisely because I put more of it into my scientific endeavors? Perhaps because you only have a limited fraction of it? Perhaps you should be sparing with it, limiting yourself to matters of life?

But it would anger me if only a tiny fraction of this instinct actually existed. I'm very sad about H., but I think maybe I shouldn't take this so tragically, but move on... In some ways, the impossibility of marrying him wouldn't change my difficult current situation. As Liebku said, marriage is marriage. So, I should keep my head down and do what's right. I still have the image of a spider spinning and unspinning its threads.

Shapiro also said it well yesterday: if we think after a while that it was lucky for us, that it happened this way and not otherwise, that doesn't prove it was actually lucky, but that we overcame it. And that's true. I overcame F., but I don't think it would have been a misfortune if I had married him. On the contrary, I would have gotten much more out of life during that time.

On this Barchan, I realized one thing: that a woman's failure to marry isn't entirely dependent on any of her professions, circumstances, etc. It's a certain inherent characteristic. After all, there are artists, scientists (Curie) and doctors who quickly and happily married, and vice versa: there are spinsters among seamstresses in bourgeois homes par excellence, etc. This is a certain lack of the instinct for life, which is attributed to various other, very obvious causes.

I am unspeakably sad. I have the feeling that something decisive will happen to me soon. It has to be, because otherwise – the best kind of suicide. I only admire my own stupidity – and I am surprised that there are so few books that teach people reason.

Perhaps the biggest mistake is the lack of this cause cudivite; I start a story without seeing it through to the end.

I would have thought it would be worth marrying K……. to have H. as a lover. Now I know that such a thing cannot exist. Neither one nor the other.

21.6.[19]20

I've noticed one change in myself: before, when I did something bad to myself, I could worry; now that I know I'm the cause, I keep quiet. What Janka Otner once told me, that she never worries about something bad she's done to herself, is only now beginning to manifest itself in me – when I've seen – especially recently – all my helplessness. This is proof that I've moved from my "will to achieve anything" stance to a more modest "...marrying reality."

I spend my Sundays terribly badly. Lately, I've been to the theater repeatedly. And on June 6th, I could have spent it wonderfully at the Club. Well, what if, due to my incompetence, I didn't invite people over – and Simon didn't let me know. What a shame, a real shame.

I simply don't know what will happen next? I'm often distraught by the emotional emptiness of my life. What will happen, and who will?

Today was Hirsz. The slightest movement on my part would drive him crazy. I would extinguish the flames of his lust (I expressed myself poetically!) and, looking at him, I would say to myself: no, a thousand times no, I prefer nothing.

One of the problems I would really like to address, in fact, the one I would most like to address, is the brake problem.

25.6.[19]20

This is how I spend these summer evenings. I simply don't go anywhere and sit at my desk. Today I'm even deliberately enjoying my solitude, since my landlady isn't here. But is this a rational lifestyle? That's something else entirely. The worst imaginable – wasting it on nothing. But somehow I can't break through the inhibitions and can't get close to the people I'd like to be with and with whom I could live a normal life. My inhibitions are very strong – and it's very upsetting – it's ruining a lot of my life. I don't know how I'm going to get out of this situation – the possibility of moving to Warsaw is becoming more and more apparent – I'm simply already thinking about it as a project for the fall.

And that's interesting: I'm actually thinking about getting married here or having a wife, for example – and yet when I think about leaving Poland forever – well, I don't know. It feels vague then; somehow, Poland is very much on my radar. This is the point on which my own thought comes crashing down when I consider this issue of marriage here.

26.6.[19]20

I'm blaming myself for Rózia. I'm increasingly under the impression that I've ruined her life, if not her life, then at least the last year. My trip to Switzerland last year was a disaster – for me and for her. If I'd left two weeks earlier – on July 1st, as I should have, everything would have been different. Rózia and I wouldn't have had this catastrophe, and I would have been a thousand times better off. My stupid little head!

I spend time with the dog (socially). I'm even disgusted with studying. I used to have the impression that Mrs. Reukstein, after the loss of her son, for whom she was terribly grieving, didn't love her other children at all. Having lost Hilf for now, I feel absolutely nothing for studying – actually, I feel anger, a grudge against her. I don't know how I'll ever accomplish all my grand academic plans if I'm in this mood, in this state of mind, as I am now.

It's interesting that there's a sort of Absperrung towards him. An interesting feeling – as if he'd moved away a thousand miles. I wouldn't be able to call him, it seems I wouldn't have to speak to him – is it absolutely over – or is there any possibility of any "resurrection" of feelings? I doubt it. Some extraordinary event would have to come to the rescue.

My article about this has been reprinted so many times. I'm not at all happy about it. I couldn't have imagined it would go so well.

Now I'm doing experiments on Nicolai. It seems that this psychological work will only give me real and deserved, at least basic, recognition.

Wednesday 28.6[.1920]

I'm very angry with myself. Yesterday I was at Rupp's lecture and I completely needlessly intervened in the discussion. That his "Schluss" was over... might have been very awkward and unsightly. All evening and into the night, I bitterly reproached myself for it. Because what was it for? It was more a mania for showing off than a real need. Self-punishment.

I need purity of intention in everything so much that I can't afford the slightest foolishness.

The Psychological Society has been here for 12 years. When I came to Berlin, I could have gone to work there, I could have had those relationships all those years ago, and who knows, maybe I wouldn't have led my life completely differently if it had been that way. It's strange how wonderful the conditions were back then: I could have been with Goldeuring, who had a "salon," and there was also an older one...—with whom he could have been—a car or a ride, and yet I didn't take advantage of any of that Berlin experience. And it's probably the same now. There are so many possibilities, so many different things, so many people with whom something could be done, but I'm doing nothing.

Whenever I remember that I didn't buy an apartment back then, my blood runs cold. I can't understand what was happening to me then, what I was thinking. And it's the same with buying those pearls. These are such significant material losses, dependent solely on my own reasoning, that I completely lose confidence in my own reasoning. And that's the saddest part. When I think about how I so longed for my own place back then, yet I didn't take what was available – my heart simply sinks. But what can I do? I'm forgetting what was, but it's not better now either. Probably just as I didn't take advantage of other things back then, I'm not taking advantage of this now, and that hurts me. No matter what other good things lay ahead, the fact that you missed out on similar things is enough. I'm outraged at myself for making such mistakes, most often: that I desired them, that I strived for them, and when they came, I didn't take advantage of them. It's so sad not to have confidence in yourself!

7.7.[19]20

Freudiana?

I saw the Gerson brothers [1] at Paasche's [2] ceremony today. I couldn't remember their names at all. I knew it was a two-syllable word with a D and an m. When I saw Fela and wanted to introduce them, I told them to introduce themselves, and that's how I learned their surname. I started with "Gersou" and got something with the word "Gewry." It reminded me of Shurov's son, whom she told me about yesterday, and I thought I might have one myself.

By the way, when I was thinking about where that word with a D and an m came from, I thought of the title of Dickens's novel "Dombey and Son."

Isn't this just an ad hoc construction? Is it really possible?

Confirmation of premonitions:

Today I called Simon about Mila. He said he's at the bank all day, so I can come over whenever I want. I felt like going to see him before dinner, although on the other hand, it was better for the day's schedule to go after dinner. When I visited him in the evening, I learned that F. had been there before dinner. I regretted that, due to my "rational" arrangement of the day, I hadn't seen him...

I'm starting to understand people sometimes: when I told Simon everything about the diet, he told me he'd say he'd seen me and that I "sehl blendend aus." It was heartfelt: he wanted to do me some good by telling Fuchs something unpleasant.

Somehow, today was his day. Because in the evening, Gerson had told Bloch that if he wanted to give a letter to Levy, who was going to Russia, he gave it to F. "I said, a bit impulsively, that he'd better give it to me," to which Bloch agreed.

The Gersons were somehow far less cordial towards me, actually somewhat embarrassed. Returning home, I thought to myself that I should be married to a "man" in the full sense of the word. I simply deserve it. I can't imagine a similar waste of femininity and humanity as I am. What will happen next? I did tell Lolka R. that my unmarriedness prolongs my youth (supposedly, that I look young), but that's just talk. It's draining my blood and brain. Quousque tandem? How long will this last?

Notes:

[1] Julius and Martin, both killed in concentration camps.

[2] Hans Paashche, a German pacifist assassinated on May 21, 1920.

9.7.[19]20

Yesterday I saw Count Kessler for the first time in his company. "Wie haben gemeinsam eine Vergangen seit." What good is that? If only we had a present together. And he's a man I could really like—I could adapt to him so perfectly.

My friends have been talking about Fuchs a lot lately. Shoblowa told me that when she found out about his marriage, she was "auf den Kopf geschlagen." And they were so happy that I was going to be his wife (!) I told her that it was the happiest day of my life when I found out, etc. But how I felt! Lindhagen also asked about him, etc. If it weren't for that man's stupidity, we would have been fine. But oh well—I guess the truth will come out once.

My relationship with people has changed a bit. I wouldn't like to tell them much about myself. I feel like I'm something, that I can give something to people, I don't need to brag.

And at the same time, I didn't want to make any enemies. I think Goldenring must have had a similar impression; she, feeling her weakness and powerlessness, wanted no enemies. My unresolved financial situation makes me more lenient towards people.

I saw a beautiful storm today. At 12 noon, it became terribly dark, but it was so dark that lamps were lit in several apartments. I looked out from my third-floor window. The sky, just low above me, was a completely dark gray, leaden. It lasted about 10 minutes. There was a breeze, but I could sense a storm was about to begin, but nature seemed to be in no mood to act. I had to put my writing aside, it was so dark. After a while, drops started falling, and rain began to fall. Slowly, it began to clear up, but it was interesting that the houses across from me had taken on a strange color; I could describe it as "fading." When I looked out the window, the entire street, actually the entire row of houses, had a single gray hue. The rain was pounding down hard, dusting the gray sky with silver dust. The view from my floor was beautiful. I regretted there wasn't a cinematographer to capture it. Now, after half an hour, it had cleared completely, and the rain was falling as hard as before.

10.7.[19]20

The only thing that hurts me now about F. is that I wasn't "voruchmkeit" with him. Many things, starting with Radkowa, were handled so poorly by me that I lacked that "Voruchmkeit"—that breadth of views and actions. I'm terribly saddened by this. I just keep repeating to myself, "Voruchmkeit." This is the only correct attitude!

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