Sunday, April 14:
R. is still busy with the performance; I send a telegram to Herr v. Gersdorff about the planetarium. Loveliest of days. We walk in the afternoon to the friendly farmer’s nearby; R. talks about music, Der Freischütz, and then the Pastoral.
“There you see the true German,” says R. “What do the French express with their Arcadian rustics? What mawkish stuff! Beethoven writes a Pastoral and in it shows us the whole of Nature.” In the evening we read Menzel’s book, which interests R. very much. Letter from Claire: Mama is ill again.