Tuesday, February 9:
Restless night. I dream of instruments of torture and murderers; R., on the other hand, dreams of Frederick the Great, whom he sees approaching with his general staff, wearing a curious hat consisting solely of two wings; we are on a piece of raised ground, he wants to come up, we help him, he asks, 'Where is your man with the white feather in his hat?' He meant the Wanderer, about whom R. had told him; while pulling him up R. notices that the cloth of his coat, blue, is very new, and he wakes up laughing.
Memories of our return from Italy, the floods in Ticino, a miracle that Fidi came into the world so healthy in view of those tremendous exertions, chills at the beginning of my pregnancy.
Lovely, sacred days of refuge in Tribschen with the two 'tiny tots' up to the day of sunshine. 'It was ordained that an agreeable, free being should be born to this world,' says R. This gives one faith.
Yesterday evening he spoke of the impression the 'Porter's Song' in Schiller’s version of Macbeth had made on him at a performance in Dresden; beautifully felt by Schiller, even if the humor in Shakespeare is something quite different.
This brings our conversation to the scene following Juliet’s feigned death; R. reads it aloud, and both he and I are once more amazed by this insight into the world. Friar Lawrence, who knows about the deception and is playing a part, as it were, speaks with utter sincerity, his voice earnest and deep, while the others, who believe that Juliet is dead, mourn in falsetto tones; the whole thing acquires through this deception a harmonious musical mood, and the ensuing scherzo of the musicians’ conversation gives no offense.
A Herr Böhme writes an impertinent letter, because R. did not reply at once concerning a manuscript he sent.
Herr Beta prophesies the rule of the 'cacocracy.' The oath has been abolished, and our ruler is now negotiating directly with the Social Democratic delegates; very fine!
R. accompanies his Siegfried to the railroad station. Unclear telegram from Richter about the concert in Vienna.
In the evening read Gfrörer, second volume, with great interest; I have less and less understanding for people who allow the boon of the Revelation to languish.