Berlin
25 December 1886
MY DEAREST MOTHER,
Today, Christmas, I take up the pen to write you a few lines; I want to devote a few hours this morning to a mental conversation with you while I think constantly that probably at this time the little grandchildren are bustling to kiss the hands of the grandparents to receive the expected Christmas gifts. Above my room the boys of the carpenter are running around and enjoying themselves blowing a cornet, which probably was given to them last night, which was children’s day.
I celebrated Christmas with a countryman who has come from Barcelona—the physician Mr. Máximo Viola—sharing with him a chicken, beer, etc., etc. You know that since I attained the age of discretion, I have always tried to celebrate this holiday for being the birthday of a great man who was the first to proclaim the equality of men and because this holiday always brings me back many memories of the paternal home. Since I have been in Europe I have celebrated it sometimes in company with countrymen, sometimes alone, and I haven’t hesitated to spend for it the little money I have.
For three nights now I have continually dreamed of you and sometimes the dream is repeated in a single night. I should not like to be superstitious, even though the Bible and the Gospels believe in dreams, but I like to believe that you are constantly thinking of me and that makes my brain reproduce what is going on in yours, for after all my brain is a part of yours, and it is not surprising, because when I’m asleep here, you are awake there and so on.
For almost about a week nothing but snow falls; I’m wrong, people walking on the street also fall, for snow is slippery when it is treaded upon. My friend Viola and I walk carefully, holding on to each other so that in case one falls, he can grasp the other.
One of these days, while we were walking through the park, we saw behind us a tall military man dressed like a private, without decoration or galloons, but wearing a cap and a raincoat. The military man walked slowly but he made long strides. At a certain distance, I thought I recognized with surprise the famous General Moltke, but the fact that he was walking all alone and simply made me doubt, because I’m accustomed to see sergeants and second lieutenants of the civil guard who [know] how to give themselves importance and put on airs. And in fact it was the great Moltke, the foremost strategists of the century, who has conquered three nations, for a few steps he met some military men who saluted him with great respect. People who knew him turned around to look at him and watch him. Many passed him by without saluting him and Moltke didn’t mind it, which makes him to me inferior to our lieutenants of the civil guards and certain mayors and friars who consider it a great crime for the rest not to remove their hats in their presence. But, what are we to do? The poor fellows are right, for after God had denied them intelligence, reason, and common sense, after society had denied them education, instruction, and consideration and we, the Indios, would deny them the salute, what else would be left to these hapless men in this vale of tears but a piece of rope with which to hang themselves? So that I’m very repentant of my past conduct toward Lieutenant Porta and some friars besides and henceforth I propose to salute them in order not to leave them in despair lest God ask me to render an account of the damnation of a Christian soul. For this reason, I want and I wanted to remedy and correct my foolishness as a boy looking for all those I might have offended, but it seems that I’m in bad luck for I haven’t heard again from any one of them, not even a single word. Moreover, and to conclude this question of saluting, it is good to distinguish the worthy persons, from the nonentities.
The afternoon is gloomy because snow is falling again. However, the past days were no longer cold. The sleds go around the streets; the Spree, or the river, is beginning to freeze in the places where the water eddies. However, it is expected that this winter will not be as cold as the previous one.
Here in Berlin there are only two Catholic churches, both…
02-189 [Blumentritt V.1]