doesn’t attack, or his nephew, the landowner, who feels so superior compared to him.
23 December. Read a few pages of Herzen’s “Fogs of London.” Had no idea what it was all about, and yet the whole of the unconscious man emerged, purposeful,
self-tormenting, having himself firmly in hand and then going to pieces again.
26 December. In Kuttenberg with Max and his wife. How I counted on the four free days, how many hours I pondered how best to spend them, and now perhaps
disappointed after all. Tonight wrote almost nothing and am in all likelihood no longer capable of going on with “The Village Schoolmaster,” which I have been working
at for a week now, and which I should certainly have completed in three free nights, perfect and with no external defect; but now, in spite of the fact that I am still
virtually at the beginning, it already has two irremediable defects and in addition is stunted—New schedule from now on! Use the time even better! Do I make my
laments here only to find salvation here? It won’t come out of this notebook, it will come when I’m in bed and it will put me on my back so that I lie there beautiful and
light and bluish-white; no other salvation will come.
Hotel in Kuttenberg Moravetz, drunken porter, tiny, roofed court with a skylight. The darkly outlined soldier leaning against the railing on the second floor of the building
across the court. The room they offered me; its window opened upon a dark, windowless corridor. Red sofa, candle light. Jacobskirche, the devout soldiers, the girls’
voices in the choir.
27 December. A merchant was greatly dogged by misfortune. He bore it for a long time, but finally was convinced that he could not bear it any longer, and went to one
learned in the law. He intended to ask his advice and learn what he might do to ward off misfortune or to acquire the strength to bear it. Now the scripture always lay
open before this sage, that he might study it. It was his custom to receive everyone who sought advice from him with these words: “I am just now reading of your
case,” at the same time pointing with his finger to a passage of the page in front of him. The merchant, who had heard of this custom, did not like it; it is true that in this
way the sage both asserted the possibility of his helping the supplicant, and relieved him of the fear that he had been visited with a calamity which worked in darkness,
which he could share with no one and with which no one else could sympathize; but the incredibility of such a statement was after all too great and had in fact deterred
the merchant from calling sooner on the man learned in the law. Even now he entered his house with hesitation, halting in the open doorway.
31 December. Have been working since August, in general not little and not badly, yet neither in the first nor in the second respect to the limit of my ability, as I should
have done, especially as there is every indication (insomnia, headaches, weak heart) that my ability won’t last much longer. Worked on, but did not finish: The Trial,
“Memoirs of the Kalda Railway,” “The Village Schoolmaster,” “The Assistant Attorney,” and the beginnings of various little things. Finished only: “In the Penal
Colony” and a chapter of Der Verschollene, both during the two-week holiday. I don’t know why I am drawing up this summary, it’s not at all like me!