Wednesday, April 15:
Dull gray weather. I spend morning and afternoon with the children, writing letters. R. works, goes to the house twice during the day, has a bath, and also keeps an eye on everything.
In the evening some more fine scores arrive from Paris, and R. plays me parts of La Vestale - Julien’s plea to the High Priestess, the crowning of Lycinus, and above all her monologue enchant us, and R. says, “A person who has written things like that is sacred to one.”
Thursday, April 16:
Still under house arrest, and the house looking like a desert, since curtains and furniture have already been removed. R. does not work, but writes to the King’s secretary, “amiably” complaining that though a great favor has been granted him, he has received no word about it.
In the evening R. goes to the Thursday gathering, where Prof. Fries, who has just seen Die Meistersinger in Nürnberg, remarks that it was the greatest artistic experience of his life. R. tells me that when a boy asked him for alms he at first refused, but then called the boy back, moved by his pitiful expression; he gave him a florin and said he should see if his mother would buy him something with it; then he should come again and would receive another florin. R. is scolded for that by his colleagues at the gathering, but he cannot understand why there should be so much poverty in so small a town.
The well in the house is at last made to function with a pump, there are a lot of chickens in the yard; besides this, a barometer purchased and an excellent gardener acquired: Konrad Rausch, who himself looks just like an old root. Lohengrin has been performed in New York.