Night of 10-11 March 1942

In woman, jealousy is a defensive reaction. It surely has an ancestral origin, and must go back to the time when woman simply couldn’t do without the protection of a man. First of all, it’s the reaction of a pregnant woman, who as such has all the more need of protection. She feels so weak in those circumstances, so timid – for herself and for the child she’s carrying. And this child itself, how many years will it take to gain its independence! Without the protection of a man, woman would feel exposed to all perils. So it’s natural that she should be quite particularly attached to the hero, to the man who gives her most security. Once this security is obtained, it’s comprehensible that she should bitterly defend her property – hence the origin of jealousy.

Man is inspired by a similar feeling towards the woman he loves, but the realm of feminine jealousy is infinitely vaster. A mother is jealous of her daughter-in-law, a sister of her sister-in-law.

I was present one day at a scene that Eva Chamberlain made at the expense of her brother, Siegfried Wagner. It was absolutely incredible, the more so as they were both married. Siegfried’s young wife, Winifred, was, so to speak, tolerated by her sisters-in-law. Nevertheless, on the day of the catastrophe, her presence was thought particularly opportune. She was a woman of irreproachable behaviour. Siegfried owes her four handsome children, all of whom obviously his – all of them Wagners!

One day I detected an unexpected reaction even in Frau Bruckmann. She had invited to her house, at the same time as taking our leave, a very pretty woman of Munich society. As we were taking our leave, Frau Bruckmann perceived in her female guest’s manner a sign of an interest that she doubtless deemed untimely. The consequence was she never again invited us both at once. As I’ve said, the woman was beautiful, and perhaps she felt some interest in me – nothing more.

I knew a woman whose voice became raucous with emotion when I spoke in her presence to another woman.

Man’s universe is vast compared to that of a woman. Man is taken up with his ideas, his preoccupations. It’s only incidental if he devotes all his thoughts to a woman. Woman’s universe, on the other hand, is man. She sees nothing else, so to speak, and that’s why she’s capable of loving so deeply.

Intelligence, in a woman, is not an essential thing. My mother, for example, would have cut a poor figure in the society of our cultivated women. She lived strictly for her husband and children. They were her entire universe. But she gave a man to Germany.

Marriages that originate only in sensual infatuation are usually somewhat shaky. Such bonds are easily untied. Separations are particularly painful when there has been a genuine comradeship between man and wife.

I think it improper that a woman should be liable to be called upon to give evidence on intimate matters. I’ve had that abolished. I’ve had that abolished. I detest prying and espionage.

This reminds me of a characteristic of Frederick the Great. He was complaining one day to his Chief of Police that he was the worst informed monarch in Europe concerning what went on inside his kingdom. “Nothing would be easier, Sire. Put at my disposal the methods that my colleagues have use of, and I shall certainly do as well as they.” “At that price,” said the King, “I won’t take it.” I myself never used such methods, and I shall never give audience to a sneak. There’s something utterly repugnant about such a person. As for female spies, let’s not speak of them! Not only are these women prostitutes, but they make the man whom they are preparing to betray the victim of the obscenest sort of play-acting.

In the days of my youth, I was something of a solitary, and I got along very easily without society. I’ve changed a lot, for nowadays I can no longer bear solitude. What I like best is to dine with a pretty woman. And rather than be left at home by myself, I’d go and dine at the Osteria.