Monday, October 27:
R. again slept badly. Constant vexation with the Prof. Dahn sends some poems in which the whole love story between himself and his wife is portrayed. The present lack of sensitivity is incomprehensible; I cannot understand a woman who reveals such secrets.
Morning and afternoon in the conservatory. Wrote to my father. Life is again difficult, R. is unwell, and we see no patch of blue in the sky.
In the evening started Meurer’s Life of Luther. Great pleasure in the true German character, in which we recognize Goethe, Beethoven, and all that we venerate among the Germans; and here it is not a game, it concerns the very nerve center of life. “The absence of all ideality brings the soul blissful peace,” says R., “and the way to this peace is through Jesus Christ.” To be stubborn in one’s piety (Luther) splendid creatures, steadfast in their faith.