Sunday, June 2:
Left home at ten o’clock, christening day, first R. and myself alone, then M. Meysenbug with my three girls. I have to leave Daniella at home, because yesterday she again caused me great sorrow with her obstinate lying, with her joy in bearing tales and her roughness toward her sisters. R. is in favor of sending her to a boarding school, but I am very much against it. Many sad thoughts, and in consequence a sleepless night.
Before the christening visited Frau Kolb, Frau Landgraf (the wife of the doctor), and finally the excellent Dean Dittmar, a magnificent old gentleman who receives us with the most lively friendliness. He talks with much fire about the performance, but admits that the Kaisermarsch made more impression on him than the 9th Symphony.
He talks a lot about the pleasure all the strange people had given him. He had been particularly glad to make the acquaintance of Dohm (editor of Kladderadatsch); in the coming days he is to visit Döllinger. Some weeks ago Dr. Friedrich was here and an Old Catholic service was held in the Protestant church. The dean thinks there will be much publicity.
His wife and daughter (the latter the wife of a parson) also make a very pleasant impression on me. They are extremely plain, and yet the German qualities of purity, devotion to duty, and earnestness are reflected in them so clearly that their lack of beauty is not noticed.
The dean also tells us that an ordinary man of the people had said, “Music usually means nothing to me, but I will do whatever he (R.) wants.”
Following this visit, dinner in the Sonne (in the room we first sat in a year ago), then fetched the baby and drove to the church. I am moved to tears by the ceremony and the words “Now through the spirit and the water shalt thou be part of the redemption.”
After the ceremony R. goes to say some words to the parson, and the latter says to him, “I was glad that I could worthily come close to you in the name of a Higher Being, after having bowed down before you in another place.”
We take the little girl, Richardis Cosima, home, her father impressed and earnest, her mother very modest; good and worthy working people with whom one cannot take liberties. They press us to wine and coffee and provide a large cake with it. Their apartment, two rooms, with five children in it, looks clean. Many people at the windows and doors of the workingmen’s houses, but the windows look out on gardens and hills. We are very moved. Oh, this dreadful, dreadful existence!
We return home without friends and the children. Quiet evening with R.; talked a lot about my father, whether it would be a good thing to see him again.