Moritz Busch -- 19 oktober 1877

• Julius Hermann Moritz Busch (1821-1899) was een Duitse schrijver, vooral bekend van zijn geschriften over Bismarck, zoals Bismarck; some secret pages of his history.

Friday, October l9th.
[...] While taking our coffee after the Koslin gentlemen had left, the Chief [Bismarck] gave a somewhat different version to that which he related at Ferrières of the cigar incident at Frankfurt. He said : " It was in the Military Commission. At first only Buol smoked. Then one day I pulled a cigar out of my case, and asked him to give me a light. With a look of surprise at my audacity he gave it to me, to the profound astonishment of the other Powers. The incident was reported to the various Courts and also to Berlin. Then followed an inquiry from the late King, who did not smoke himself, and probably did not appreciate the thing. Thereupon the two Great Powers alone smoked for perhaps six months. Then suddenly Bavaria also appeared with a cigar, and after a time Saxony followed suit. Finally, Wurtemberg also felt it necessary not to remain behind, but this was obviously compulsory sacrifice to dignity, for he puffed his yellow weed with an air of surly determination, and afterwards laid it down half smoked. It was only Hesse-Darmstadt that abstained altogether, probably not feeling equal to such competition."

At tea, which was served in the Princess's room, the Prince [Bismarck] suddenly stood up, went to his wife's writing- table, and began to scribble away on a large sbeet of paper. He then came to me, handed me the writing, and said, "There, but take care, it is still wet." It was the letter of introduction to Schönhausen and Friedrichsruh which I had asked for on the previous afternoon, as I wished to start next morning. I was very pleased, and thanked him. "I find it very difficult to write with a pen," he said; "but then you wished to have it in my own hand." "All the more honour for me, your Serene Highness," I replied. "Now I have the souvenir I desire." "But why do you wish to leave so soon ?" he said. "Stay a little longer. You are not at all in the way, and you should see a little more of Varzin." I thanked him and said I should be delighted to remain a day or two longer, as I was only too happy to be near him. He said : " But you must allow me sometimes to go out walking or riding alone."

Alice Fletcher -- 18 oktober 1881

• Alice Cunningham Fletcher (1838-1923) was een Amerikaanse etnologe. In 1881 verbleef ze enige tijd tussen de Sioux, en hield toen een velddagboek bij.

Rode over to Standing Elk’s camp. As we drove down the barren hills, saw over on the plateau, several tepees and log houses. About one of the tepees, crowds were gathered. Buffalo-chip, who was in advance with Standing Elk, rode back and said, some one was dying or about to die in the tepee.

An Indian Death Scene.

This man, Kiek, was at the beef issue. He went home and worked hauling some logs. He felt a sort of click in his chest and became weak and lay down, grew weaker and weaker and died at daybreak. The nearest of kin goes out of the tent door and calls, a fore runner has gone to the spirit land, come and meet him. His horse, the last one, is shot as soon as possible. The wives open their packs and empty their store, calico, bead work, &c.. These are thrown on the railing beside the tent.

This man held the Drum of the Fox Club and carried the pipe of peace, in battle. If, in the midst of conflict, this pipe was held in a certain manner - hostility must cease, and if the opposing party touch the stem, the peace must follow. He belonged also to the Omaha Club.

His horse lay dead, as in the sketch - The row of heads were the Omaha Club. These chanted long and slow the death song. His dog came out these men shot it. It turned and cried piteously, was shot three times and then fled on, on up the hill at the rear of the tent and there lay down and died. Bye and bye one of the women went up to where it lay and with wailing dragged it down and it lay as in the sketch. The tent was open as in the sketch - people went about it, women wailing. There was some sort of feather ornament hanging over his head - sketch - This was his war bonnet. The women wailed the gay colored calico fluttered, and the bright bead work, contrasting strangely. Bye and bye, a man came and called this was the giving away of the dead man’s horses. Then the wife and mother came out wailing. The dog was dragged toward the Omaha Club. This was a gift for a dog feast. They carried two bunches of the calico and threw them before the Club. Then they passed down the line laying their hands on the head of each man, wailing as they passed. Bead work and calico were given to the women.

The women cut their hair as soon as the death is known and put it on the body. This is buried with the person.

I saw all the household utensils being carried away, boiler, iron pots and the like. Nothing will be left in the tent, not even a meal. The relatives too, must give away, so that the widow and orphans will be without anything. A family are ridiculed who retain things. The wife &c., will stay with one friend and another - this divides property but makes all beggars. Missionaries preach against it. Just before the man called out the gift of horses, I noticed a man clad in a light blanket, leaned over the dead man and painted his face red and yellow. When this was done he called out the horses given away. Several women went into the tent after the giving away, the Omahas went in. The women seemed to keep to the left side of the tent. The man lay on the right as you enter. Women kept to that side as well as inside. While the Omahas went in, a group of men gathered at the left side and began to smoke.

The man was buried in the afternoon. His knife, pistol, drum and horse put with him. The men, with mouth and chin and end of nose, a sort of triangle, painted black signifiers one who had been wounded and bled. Red stripes indicated horses given away in pipe dance. Yanktons affect yellow and red, sometimes, striped, some times, spotted, red or yellow - I don’t recollect, yellow or red. Red mostly used and black by the others.

Saw rations - One tin cup of green coffee for a family of two and four. Less than 1/2 lb. of sugar. A strip of bacon about an inch to 1 1/2 wide and from 18 to 30 inches long, and 5 to 3 inches wide for 11 in family. Bacon thrown into flour bag.

Willem de Clerq -- 17 oktober 1820

• Willem de Clercq (1795-1844) was bankier, dichter en voorman van het protestantse Réveil in Nederland. Zijn dagboeken vormden de basis voor Naar zijn dagboek.

Dingsdag 17 Oct.
Een heerlijke avond. Reeds lang had ik gewenscht Da Costa, dien ik nog slechts in eenige kringen gezien had, nader te leeren kennen. Ik gaf hem deze begeerte te verstaan, en nu kwam hij op een recht genoegelijken avond bij mij. Hij is wezenlijk dichter, vol vuur, vol gevoel; wij doorliepen de schoonste stukken van verschillende letterkunde. Spanje, Italië, Portugal, alles had zijn beurt. Hij is eenvoudig, zonder pedanterie, en was veel beminnelijker dan toen hij in de vergadering bij Pauly op Hartsen aangehitst werd om den adeldom of de denkbeelden der ultra's te verdedigen. Hij begrijpt juist wat het improviseeren is, en was de eerste, die mij den raad gaf: of improviseer niet meer, of schrijf geene verzen meer. Het eene kan niet met het ander gaan, en dan is het eerste, wijl het zeldzamer is te verkiezen, omdat dan de wereld voor u open ligt en gij geen enkel denkbeeld, dat als gij schrijft buiten uw plan zou vallen, behoeft te laten ontsnappen. - Alle dichters moesten eigenlijk improvisatoren zijn. Hij verzocht mij zelfs nog eens voor hem te improviseeren, hetgeen zijne goedkeuring wegdroeg. Wij spraken over zijne vorming, over Bilderdijk, over zooveel schoons en groots.

Toos Urselmann -- 16 oktober 1942

• Toos Urselmann (1905-1993) hield tijdens de oorlog een dagboek bij.

Woensdagmorgen de stad in boodschappen, o.a. elleboog halen, naar de smid voor de kachel en snoep.In Jamin ½ uur op beurt wachten, winkels worden al leeger. Moeder 's middags achter op de fiets mee naar den Boekend.
Donderdags gewoon.
16 Oct herdenking van Sefs geboortedag, bange vragen omtrent die'n goeden broer. Begrafenisdag van tante Door, z.g. Mientjes geboortedag. Avond van ½ 10- ½ 11 in schuilkelder, vuurspuwend bezoek voor Keulen. We hoorden `t echter niet donderen in Keulen.
Zaterdag kachel gezet. 's Middags naar den Boekend geweest. Vreeselijk vies weer. Gehoord, dat Mgr. Aerts met nog 7 paters en eenige zusters door de Jappen vermoord zijn. Geen andere namen, ontzettend gestoorde uitzendingen, zoodat niemand fatsoenlijk naar de nadere omschrijving kon luisteren. Op Guinea geven de laatste Nederlanders zich over. Wat een verdrietige tijd. Weer 15 vaderlanders, z.g. gijzelaars doodgeschoten wegens sabotage door anderen gepleegd. Ach Lieve Heer, wanneer houdt dat geselen op. Spaar Heer en bekeer de zielen. Zal `t bloed van de vermoorde missionarissen ook weer `t zaad zijn voor nieuwe Christenen. Voor ons onnozelen zijn Gods raadsbesluiten nu eenmaal ondoorgrondelijk. Alleen hoop en vertrouwen op Goddelijke barmhartigheid maakt ons `t verder leven mogelijk.
Zondag Missiezondag, een witte pater missionaris, die niet trugkon naar de Missie, preekte voor de voortplanting des geloofs. Z.E. vertelde dat er 100 missionarissen klaar stonden voor de Missie God. Geve, dat ze spoedig kunnen gaan. Aan den vooravond van Missiezondag sprak de Koningin een woord van troost tot de familie der ter dood gebrachten. H.M. is ook erg bedroefd maar vol Gods Godsvertrouwen. Ook in Boston sprak een Mgr. tot `t katholieke volk van Nederland, vertaald door een Nederlandse priester.
Maandag met Dora naar Marres. 's Middags wasdag, een en al regen en duistere triestigheid. Net een beeld van den tijd. Waarschuwing van overzee voor `t treinverkeer, niet laat reizen enz. enz. Gestook in de kranten tegen de geallieerden.
Dinsdag wasdag. `t Grootste nieuws dat Riek kennis had na een stiekeme voorbereiding van ruim een ½ jaar. Ondoorgrondelijk zijn soms de geheimen der mensen, ook van vriendinnen. 's Avonds na `t Lof, met Lies naar `t bad.

Charles Hennebois -- 13 oktober 1914

• Charles Hennebois was een Franse soldaat die in 1914 in Duitsland ernstig gewond raakte en in gevangenschap verpleegd werd. Zijn dagboek van die periode is gepubliceerd als In German hands. The diary of a severely wounded prisoner.

October 13. About jive o'clock. I was lying at this moment on the edge of the field of lucerne, somewhat hidden by the tall grass, and in the pale morning light, through the mists that were rising from the ground, I saw three German patrols moving over the ground.

Some of the wounded called out to them, begging for water. The Germans finished them off with the butt-ends of their rifles or their bayonets, and then robbed them. I saw this done a few yards from where I was. A group of seven or eight men were lying there, struck down by cross-fire from the machine- guns. Some of them were still alive, and spoke imploringly to the Germans. They were butchered as I say, robbed, and thrown in a heap.

I gathered from the cries that reached me from other parts of the field, from the laughter, followed by dull blows, and the subsequent silence, that other hapless creatures were sharing the same fate. I will not describe the anguish I endured. I thought my last hour was at hand, and if I lifted up my soul to God, it was less to ask Him to save me for I had so little hope for myself at that moment than to implore Him to soften and heal the grief of those dear to me. I prepared for death. Footsteps approached above me on the left. A minute before I had determined to die bravely, denouncing those who were outraging humanity by such deeds as cowards and murderers. Something stronger than myself made me close my eyes. I stiffened my body and lay motionless. The Germans thought I was dead. One of them turned me over with a violent kick, and greedy, brutal hands began to strip me of my possessions. I felt them taking the watch I was wearing on my wrist in a leather bracelet, my modest purse, containing a little gold, and a knife with several blades which I had bought at Toulouse the day before I left. My pocket-book, my pencil, and a notebook, which I had slipped between my shirt and my skin, escaped their search, and also my tobacco-pouch, my cigarette-papers, and my matches, which I had put into my right-hand pocket under my handkerchief.

The footsteps died away ; but I remained perfectly still. I gave myself up for lost. After this patrol another would pass. I thanked God for His intervention, and I awaited death, almost desiring to hasten the end of my tortures.

More than an hour passed in this manner. I had at last ventured to turn over by dint of agonized efforts and had got into a somewhat less painful position, when fresh footsteps drew near. I had neither the time nor the inclination to feign a second time, for bayonets were already at my breast. A last instinctive impulse, an effort of thought, nevertheless brought the words that were to save me to my lips. I know a little German, of the kind one learns at school. But I managed to elaborate the following sentence :

" Why," I asked, " do you want to kill me ? Is it thus you respect the lives of your fellow- creatures ? Can a disarmed man be an enemy ? "

I spare the reader the faults of syntax which no doubt graced it ; however, it was effectual. The two weapons were withdrawn at an authoritative gesture. " Germany is merciful. She does not kill the wounded," said a man, who, as I afterwards learned, was a Bavarian student.

Alas ! I knew the exact opposite ! I had seen it with my own eyes. But I refrained from saying so. It was hardly the moment for protest.

A fusillade began, distant and intermittent. The soldiers left me, but not till my protector had assured me that I need fear nothing. He was on duty in that sector, and would keep an eye on me till the stretcher-bearers could come and fetch me.

Randy Newman -- 11 oktober 1994

• Randy Newman (1943) is een Amerikaanse zanger. In 1994 hield hij een 'Hollands Dagboek' bij.

Dinsdag 11 oktober
Normaal gesproken kijk ik nooit naar mezelf als ik op de televisie kom, maar nu ik toch in het buitenland ben, hield ik me voor dat ik voor een keertje best van dat principe mocht afwijken. Zodoende heb ik vanavond voor het eerst sinds vijftien jaar mijn achterhoofd weer eens gezien. Wat me van die reportage in dat kunstprogramma echter bovenal zal bijblijven, is het schokkende feit dat ik, anders dan ik altijd had gedacht, werkelijk als twee druppels water lijk op mijn broer.Overigens kunnen we het goed met elkaar vinden, mijn broer de chirurg en ik, al was het maar omdat we allebei verwoede lezers zijn. Alleen houdt hij het bij moderne romans, terwijl mijn belangstelling meer uitgaat naar biografieën, literaire essays en wetenschappelijke werken.

Wat fictie betreft, wordt mijn nieuwsgierigheid vooral geprikkeld wanneer het verhaal zich afspeelt in een mij bekende omgeving, vandaar dat ik Nederlandse schrijvers als Harry Mulisch, Cees Nooteboom en Janwillem van de Wetering in de kast heb staan. Eigenlijk zou ik best meer dan twee boeken per week willen lezen, ware het niet dat ik me vaak niet van het tv-toestel kan losrukken. Zo interesseer ik me absoluut niet voor sport en toch blijf ik er soms urenlang naar kijken - ik kan het gewoon niet helpen.

George Orwell -- 10 oktober 1942

• George Orwell (1903-1950) was een Britse schrijver en journalist. In 1941-'42 werkte hij voor de BBC's Eastern Service.

10.10.42: Today in honour of the anniversary of the Chinese Revolution the Chinese flag was hoisted over Broadcasting House. Unfortunately it was upside down.

10.11.42: The authorities in Canada have now chained up a number of German prisoners equal to the number of British prisoners chained up in Germany. What the devil are we coming to? [The Germans chained some 2,500 Allied prisoners (mainly Canadian) taken at Dieppe because they claimed that British Commandos had chained their German prisoners. The British War Office denied this. Canada then manacled 1,376 German prisoners.]

10.15.42: A little bit of India transplanted to England. For some weeks our Marathi newsletters were translated and broadcast by a little man named Kothari, completely spherical but quite intelligent and, so far as I could judge, genuinely anti-Fascist. Suddenly one of the mysterious bodies which control recruitment for the BBC (in this case I think MI5) got onto the fact that Kothari was or had been a Communist, active in the students' movement, and had been in jail, so the order came to get rid of him. A youth named Jatha, working at India House and politically OK, was engaged in his place. Translators in this language are not easy to find and Indians who speak it as their native tongue seem to tend to forget it while in England. After a few weeks my assistant, Miss Chitale, came to me with great secrecy and confided that the newsletters were still in fact being written by Kothari. Jatha, though still able to read the language, was no longer equal to writing it and Kothari was ghosting for him. No doubt the fee was being split between them. We can't find another competent translator, so Kothari is to continue and we officially know nothing about it. Wherever Indians are to be found, this kind of thing will be happening.

10.17.42: Heard a "Jew joke" on the stage at the Players' theatre last night -a mild one, and told by a Jew, but still slightly anti-Jew in tendency.104 More Second Front rumours. The date this time is given as October 20th, an unlikely date, being a Tuesday. It seems pretty clear that something is going to happen in West or North-west Africa however.

11.15.42: Church bells rung this morning - in celebration for the victory in Egypt. The first time that I have heard them in over two years.