Monday, June 17:
Still raw and overcast weather, but R. rises early, drinks his waters, and takes his walk. Afterward he lies down again, then spends his morning reading; the character of the divine human being is becoming ever clearer and deeper in his mind; the difference between Jesus and the saints is the difference between the revealer and the receivers. He will write splendidly about it.
After lunch R. recalled our meeting in Reichenhall, our parting, “you with your eyes always lowered.” Discussion about love relationships. If they are not everything, if they do not lead either to death or to union, there is always something absurd about them, he said.
After lunch yesterday he delighted me with the remark that, when Boni walked past the altar with such beautiful earnestness, he had been reminded of how, as Evening, she had walked past his portrait. He found renewed pleasure in our simple church and the upper altar picture in particular; “The Saviour ascending to Heaven in a shroud, transfigured - this is a very beautiful symbol.”
The Christ on the Mount of Olives beneath it seems to him to have his hair too nicely curled. Dwelling on this theme yesterday, he recalls our Communion together, and how beautifully our friend Dittmar spoke the words “He approaches,” how stirring he was, and how well he looked even when moving around busily. Then he goes on to speak about the great moment, “so terribly stirring,” of Peter’s recognition of Christ. For me his words are a lovely extension of the divine service, and yesterday I hardly ceased praying!
Today, when I go walking in the garden with R., I speak to him of Tauler and tell him my feeling that, just as poets see their characters from the outside, so saints must experience the emotions of their hearts as forms perceptible to the eye. R. would very much like to read a history of present-day Christian sects.
Drive to the Fantaisie, which R. much enjoys; on our return friend Seidl tells us about the performance of Siegfried in Munich, which, to judge by his report, must have been thoroughly bad - they have gone out of their way, it seems, to do everything differently from Bayreuth. “I don’t want to hear a word about it,” R. exclaims, and “What a curious fate these works have had!” In the evening R. reads Renan to me.
In the newspaper a never-ending stream of arrests for lèse majesté! A dismal story. Baron Staff tells me that in Lower Franconia they are praying for the welfare of France!