Wednesday, 14 August 1878

The Coubes are going to Wiesbaden and I entrust them with dispatching the following note — in German.
Reply.
Doves do not consort with geese. Adored Dove.
And now... it is madness, more than madness. Schwarz could never have written anything so vulgar, and the author betrays himself by the semi-Russian spelling of my name. It is some frightful Jew with a sly, repulsive air who is learning Russian! Fortunately the word réponse will tell them it was only a reply...
All the same, how little luck I have in everything... not to have guessed yesterday!... Why, it is as clear as day... Schwarz writing such a thing! What an idea... whereas that b (v) Russian and that a at the end of the name, and that Jew who has a Russian grammar in his hands all day long.
Truly, that is most unfortunate.
The Coubes return in the evening with Count and Countess Cancrine — the Countess is Mme Coubé’s cousin.
We settle in for supper. Ouroussoff, Mme Abaza, Dourassoff... but let me first say that during the day Dourassoff comes to tell me he has spoken with the Gans and that they want to be introduced, etc. etc. So this evening, while chatting with our own party, I tease him and complain of being martyrised by his hesitations. Dourassoff works himself up and promises to introduce them... they arrive around ten, he goes to meet them and, after exchanging a few words, says he is going to introduce them. “Oh! No, thank you,” Schwarz replies. Mme Abaza departs in raptures. M. Coubé receives it like a cold shower... I had heard nothing; Dourassoff repeated the word to me. In Russia one gives slaps for such things... in Soden it is I who receive them... and pretty much everywhere else, for that matter... in front of M. and Mme Cancrine. Shall I always be mad, then?! Confiding in an idiot like Dourassoff and pushing this little joke truly too far... Can God not grant me a little reason, since He grants me nothing else?
I give the cold shoulder to unfortunate souls like Schenk who do not even deserve it, and on the other side... no, but there it is. I joke with wit but I never know when to stop in time; the most delightful comedy in my hands always ends in something wounding. One really must take care, rein oneself in — or else go and hang oneself or shut oneself away in a madhouse. I am amusing for others but despicable to myself. Poor Dourassoff went immediately to the Gans to tell them he was very sorry about the incident, which he had thought to arrange for the best — to which these princes replied that it was nothing, and gave my imminent departure and the presence of the Coubes as the reason for their refusal...
Now... I feel one of those detestable impressions that I know so well, alas! One really ought to arrange things so as never again to have to record anything so... abominable... Everything was going well, I was amusing myself like a madwoman, and what a dénouement... my emperor!
Now there is only one thing to do... stay until Saturday, and tomorrow even...
Drat it! Good heavens, what folly. What a detestable thing!... I will no longer say my God every time I call Him to my aid. He shows Himself in so clement and gracious a manner that I am going to leave Him in peace. And you will see — now that I am saying impertinent things to Him, He will be there to punish me, whereas He is never anywhere to help or protect me. I shall never become an atheist through science, I am not learned enough for that; but I shall become an atheist quite simply because I have never found protection, despite tears, prayers, invocations, endless supplications; I have found nothing but a horrible fatality whose blows struck me from every side. And this God who hides Himself when it comes to snatching me from the most frightful miseries of the soul is going to show Himself terrible and indisputable to crush me with some catastrophe, because I permit myself these blasphemies.
I did not mean to write them, but upon my word... one may as well write what one thinks!
There is no doubt a God, a... God is Nature, God is the Universe, but not a Supreme Being who watches over us, who hears us... and all that mythology of the Virgin, the Saints and Christ, who was seen risen only by his twelve apostles, who had only to invent that apparition... Do not be astonished to hear these horrors over the Gans... the Gans are the drop that makes the cup run over. Every time I have called upon this God of Mercy, this God of Goodness, I have been deceived, humiliated, grieved! Whether I ask Him for something unimportant or... something vital, I am sure to get nothing...
quite the contrary.
Whether I stay on my knees for hours begging Him to make... to make a man love me, a man whom I adore and to whom I promise this same God to devote my life, to sacrifice all my caprices, to be a model wife and to live only to do good — or whether I pray that the waters of Soden may cure me, or that... Schwarz be introduced... it is all the same. Ever since I prayed to Him to protect my drawing, I have begun to draw badly. I shall never forget my prayer at Sorrento and the merciful way in which it was answered... but always! but everything! If any pleasure or joy has ever come my way, it is because I had not had the time or the thought to speak of it to My God...
And now He is going to show Himself to punish me for what I say; once crushed, annihilated, bruised, I shall fall to my knees, proclaim His existence and curse my blasphemies! Yes, they say He exists, but He has done me nothing but harm... Then again, I was mad: I had taken Him seriously, like Cassagnac! One must go to church and say one’s prayers, and that is all. Then one believes in God... But I used to talk to Him, I told Him my sorrows, I had made Him my friend, my father, my... God; I turned to Him for everything... Now I shall do as the others do, who are nevertheless pious and good people.
So... I no longer even have my God to console me...
The day before yesterday I slipped on my green canvas and fell in the middle of the drawing room... so something was bound to happen to me... these superstitions are silly, but they always prove right; I would believe in God if He showed Himself half as much.
It is late... I must go to sleep, but first I shall say my prayers; I shall pray to be forgiven my impious words of this evening... I am going to beg Him to lead me back onto the right path, to take these doubts from me... Let Him show me no goodness, since I do not deserve it, but at least let Him make me trust again, let me be a Christian.

Notes

An unnamed fellow guest at Soden, the Taunus spa where Marie was taking the cure. She suspects him of the anonymous letter only from the half-Russian spelling of her name, and he becomes the household’s bugbear over the next days (082/1878-08-16). Hostility to Jewish guests at German spas and resorts is documented from about 1870 onwards. ↩
Réponse (“Reply”): the French word Marie wrote at the head of her note. ↩