Tuesday, July 27:
Awful dream that R. set his head on fire by carelessly turning a gas flame; after that a second, gentler, but all the same melancholy dream about R. In the morning constantly clutching my heart. R. comes up and tells me he had a very bad night with violent pains in the heart. At five o'clock he had written to Serov, telling him the French people who had so disturbed him had now left, and his music could now proceed as earnestly and gloomily as his wife could wish.
We think with joy of our newly found friends, particularly of her. Then R. starts laughing at the fact that we always understand each other so well. “Oh, how happy we shall be; what is Goethe's happy old age compared with mine?” Then he says that he sometimes has the feeling that art is downright dangerous; it is as if, in this great enjoyment of observing, he is perhaps failing to recognize the presence of some hidden sorrow.
Great pleasure in the children. Showed Lulu the Orbis Pictus, while Boni was copying out. Horrifying story of a nun in Cracow who went mad from being locked up. Eva having trouble with her teeth. R. at his work; in the afternoon Grimm's fairy tales. Then with Lusch to meet R. On the way we meet Colonel Am Rhyn, who tells us it is reported in the Luzerner Zeitung that the King of Bavaria is at Tribschen. In Berne everybody had asked him about it, and the chief of police in Lucerne had said to him on the train that he had a good nose: he knew the King was at Tribschen! R. vexed by this.
Since I am surprised to have received no answer from M[athilde] M[aier], I ask R. whether he has withheld a letter from me; I then find out that a regular exchange of correspondence has been going on, and R. also thinks I was wrong not to have told her of the birth of Siegfried. This unfortunately hurt me deeply; with how much difficulty is self-will broken! When does a human being ever achieve complete renunciation?
Recently R. told me that things had changed between us after all: I was now only earnestly companionable toward him. And yet nothing has changed except that I now want no other joy but to see him happy and in good health and the children flourishing. Years ago, when I received the gift of his love, I was in an ecstasy; I hailed the light as if raised from the dead, I forgot everything I knew and believed in happiness on earth, believed in it and demanded it. Now I know everything again and in consequence am content to go around just like a shadow. And yet, so weak am I, I was hurt today, when all suffering should be welcome to me!
Wrote to Claire in the morning, sending her 1,000 francs to invest for Loulou. Eva somewhat better in the evening.