Friday, March 22:
R. says the sky is like a blow on the nerves. It is and remains gray.
A batch of songs sent to him provokes R. into an indictment of lyric poetry; he does not believe the poets, he finds such things repulsive in our present world, these musical love laments, the singers with their lovelorn expressions. Goethe went back to the style of folk poetry, he says; also he wanted to get whatever he wrote about off his mind, and such things are all right when you are young. He thinks Elective Affinities the finest thing besides Faust that Goethe ever wrote; we discussed several things in it: “Oh, this Charlotte!” asking myself what happened during that time and tell myself, ‘Ah, that was in the ’50s, the ’60s.’ ”
At lunch R. is somewhat out of humor; he wanted to let me hear the beginning of the 2nd act, and friend S. was not ready in time. By coffeetime he is cheerful again, though his walk did not do him much good: vexation with the dogs even made him spit up some blood. With indescribable concern I leave him to himself, so that he can have complete rest; I give my history lesson, wondering all the time how he is, and experience the bliss of being greeted by him, completely recovered, with the words “Here comes the slender doe!”
At supper, reports that in Prussia no ministers are to be found - the result of successful intrigues or of these utterly depraved times? R. sings the finale of Beethoven’s Violin Sonata Opus [left blank] and once again praises the beauty and uniqueness of these youthful works: “One finds the beginnings of them in Mozart, but here this kind of melody forms the basis - in Mozart there are too many frills.”
The biography of Schopenhauer, regret that it was written by a man as little qualified as Dr. Gwinner: “That’s what happens to all our great men.” I express to R. my joy at seeing him well again; awareness of our happiness. “We are quite alone in this world,” says R., “not another kindred soul,” and he adds: “It is not very pretty, this world. What keeps me alive, if not your love?” And so we lay ourselves down to rest.