Wednesday, August 6:
The sky remains true to us; we climb the Altenburg and enjoy the view of the lovely countryside. But on the drive back, a picture of the Virgin Mary on the bridge arouses real horror in us: what are these terrible Jesuits making of the noble cult of the Virgin?
We visited the library, with great delight in the old manuscripts, but even more in the Dürer drawings. The portrait of Emperor Maximilian and a Christ arouse our admiration in particular; if the fourteenth-century crucifix in the cathedral and the tomb of Heinrich II had moved us profoundly, the sight of this drawing brings tears to our eyes. The ugliness of the German women makes us laugh.
We left the Bamberger Hof at about 2 o’clock and drove to Forchheim. From there a carriage to Muggendorf; lovely evening, idyllic sojourn, splendid moonrise. But R. is unfortunately still in an ill humor: an unhappy parallel I drew between my father’s playing and the art of Wilhelmine Schröder-Devrient makes him angry and indignant. Half-asleep, I believe I hear him saying unpleasant things; when I tell him this, he loses his temper, but it all resolves itself in passionate and loving explanations, and then the night passes peacefully.