Sunday, October 20:
My father writes; visitors come: Baron Lerchenfeld, Herr Kolb, Herr Feustel. Family lunch; my father is pleased with the children, and they behave quite well. After lunch a walk with the children in the palace gardens.
In the evening music: my father plays fugues by Bach, the “A-flat Major” from Tristan, and several of his own compositions. A great, relaxed feeling that he belongs with us, that we should not let him part from us. Plans of a permanent residence here.
But alas, I hardly believe in common sense any more. My father in all matters remarkably liberal, admires Bismarck, recognizes the power of Protestant hymns, thinks the Clerical party finished; but he is tired, tired!