Sunday, February 24:
R. is well and works; I go to the theater with the three youngest. Hasty homecoming. R. shows me the new Court theater in Dresden, for which we cannot raise much enthusiasm.
We laugh over the opening of this large building, so out of proportion to the size of the population, with Iphigenie, Tasso, and Minna von Barnhelm, as also over the wedding opera in Berlin: La clemenza di Tito. R. says Dido abbandonata by Marshal Kalb would have been better!
In the evening Parsifal. Getting to know this wonderful work brings happiness and bliss. R. tells me that I have it in black and white that my coming into his life has made him happy, now he is able to get on with it and work! I take leave of this book with feelings of gratitude toward life, with ardent love, with faith, and with hope!
End of the ninth notebook of the Diaries. The tenth begins: “Dedicated to my Siegfried, from its fleeting strokes may he deduce and recognize the great love to which he owes his existence!”