Monday, August 18:
R. slept well and appears refreshed. Today I am borne along on the wings of “selig, wie die Sonne meines Glückes lacht”, and in the afternoon, while I am with Eva, R. plays it for me downstairs!
At lunch he tells me about his present reading, the Old Testament, the story of Sarah, and he remarks that Israel has always been what it now is; the fact that Christ was born in its lands does it no credit, for, as from extreme poverty, a god must also emerge from extreme wickedness. Still much vivisection! Real horrors are coming to light here; the Latin nations are utterly unsympathetic, the English, on the other hand, indignantly active and successful.
We drive out to the children in the rain, and curious feelings grip me at the sight of the little estate, lying there like an isolated island - how remote from the whole world we seem, we and our children, battered by storms, rescued from ruin, completely estranged from the world! R. plays billiards with the children, and then we go home. In the evening Plato, Socrates's speech in his own defense. Glorious impression! R. finds it praiseworthy that in his negation he touches on the nature of philosophy. What would be the positive aspect, one might ask? That which cannot be spoken, the soul's peace which unfolds from the annihilation of all deception and inspires deeds.
[Added below: “A feature of R.'s life; Herr Tappert asks for 600 marks, after failing to pay the previous 500. First of all R. asks friend Feustel what to do, but he grows daily more and more impatient in his eagerness to help, and although he does not possess this sum, he tells Herr Gross to send it! His feelings could be described as impetuous sympathy.”]