Tuesday, April 16:
R. is very upset by the second volume of V. Hugo, finding the massacre horrible and the people who, after it, could still go on amusing themselves incomprehensible. The fact that such a man as N. III could also do some good things shows the wretchedness of all politics. We think of our good friend Pusinelli and his excellent family: “I do not believe that there are people as good as these among my enemies,” R. says. Yesterday he went to Wolzogen in order to alter two words in his article, instead of “then he received from the minister,” “then the minister obtained for him.” Regret that Heyse, who had a sense of form, has been “spoiled” by the theater. R. works and is pleased with his Tor, which he sings to me frequently. In the evening my father plays us the Album-Sonate, in which R. finds little to enjoy: “Though the Albumblatt für Betty Schott is also artificial, it is nevertheless better.” I ask my father to play something for R. from the 48 Preludes and Fugues, which he does, playing the piece to the amazement and delight of us all. Friend Feustel approaches my father regarding capital for the deficit, which, it seems, is not easy to raise at 5%; I beg my father, who is reluctant to touch his investments, only to do so if we are unable to raise the necessary loan elsewhere.