Sunday, May 25:
Giving thanks in all directions; I write a dozen letters, and have to struggle against despondency. I feel it is the rough weather. The lawyer Mattenheimer, with his report on the business side of the celebrations; the town, it is said, is of one opinion: how lovely the celebrations were; and indeed the nice thing about it was that the whole town took part and feted R. Visit from the sculptor Kietz of Dresden, who wants to make a bust of R. He visits our house and admires the way in which no thought was given to the facade; it was built from the inside, with the result that from the outside something acceptable has also been achieved.
They go to the building site; I stay at home with the children. In the evening R. reads aloud passages from his biography, during which I note the curious fact that the descriptions, when read aloud, have an unpleasant effect on me.