Thursday, September 29:
R. reads in the newspaper that the discovery of a diamond mine in America has led to the building of a complete town in the shortest possible time: “That shows what people are when metal, which was intended only as a symbol, a means of facilitating barter, becomes eo ipso a means of creating life.”
R. works, goes through the 2nd proof of his article, and takes it to Wolz. He returns from his little walk with a chest spasm. At lunch Judith and her friend Herr Benediktus - Israel; R.’s remark about the smooth, somewhat oily voice of the Israelite.
Fine weather - for R. and me a drive along the pretty highway to Konnersreuth. Much pleasure in the countryside; R. somewhat beside himself over the growing numbers of Israel. In the evening he feels pains in his side and sends for the doctors.
At supper he is still cheerful; he tells the story of M. Jadin, in whose house in Meudon was nothing but crapauds and araignées [“toads and spiders”]. But he is vexed at having to speak French and he soon withdraws, after the doctor has seen him, diagnosed his trouble as rheumatism, and prescribed a compress. “Ma chère enthousiaste, prenez pitié de moi” [“My dear devotee, have pity on me”], he says to Judith, as he takes leave of her and makes his excuses.
During our walk we discussed that curious and daemonic habit of his of wounding people without the slightest evil intent; today, for example, in the disquiet of his restless mood, he said that if he were king, he would distribute ministries for this and that, and, turning to Joukowsky, he says, “A vous celui de la chétiveté” [“to you that of puniness”]. Since Jouk. is very puny - and that is also the reason why his talent can never amount to much - he was very hurt, until I explained to him that it is always a sign of R.’s inner disquiet when he sticks out his claws in this way, though he has a daemonic talent for hitting unerringly on one’s weak point.
Today he wrote, along with my father, to the wine merchant Feldheim.