Sunday, October 26:
My father relieves me of the necessity of traveling to Pest; R. is both glad and sorry about it, and says that I have to give up so much on his account! So a heavy sacrifice on my part is over and done with.
R. is still not well and cannot work. In the morning we go for a walk together; in the afternoon, our first long rest in the conservatory!
In the evening we read Uhland, and when Malwida has gone and I feel provoked by a curious book by Princess Wittgenstein (De la matière) to ask R. some questions, our conversation leads us to the mystic Meister Eckhart. R. begins to read a sermon by him, which fascinates us to the highest degree. Everything turned inward, the soul silent, so that in it God may speak the hidden word!
Then we read a lovely Danish poem, “Aage the Knight and Else,” in Uhland. Ignor seems barbaric in comparison. Helgi and Sigrune.
At lunch the statement of the gladiators, “Morituri te salutant,” cropped up. The word morituri cannot be expressed in other languages in a single word; the German language has lost these potentialities because it took its cultivation from the languages of the Latin countries, that is to say, from the languages based on Latin in an emasculated form.
R. is very unwell. Our only joy is Fidi’s high spirits and cheerfulness; it is almost impossible to remain serious with him, even when one is trying to scold him.