Thursday, October 3:
Not a good night for R.; he believes drinking beer is the reason for it. Despite these disturbances our breakfast is cheerful and, second only to the evening, the nicest time of the day. After I have told him of a tale in The Arabian Nights which I am now reading with Fidi, he embraces me: “My Allah and my all!”
Today I hear no musical sounds, and at lunch R. tells me with a laugh, “I am now writing for Wolzogen, like Kant for Lampe.” During a lovely sunset we stroll across the Birk to the little wood, a lovely walk which does R. good, but unfortunately on our homecoming he has the annoyance of finding that despite his recommendation Herr Rudolphi is not engaging our friend Seidl. R. then at once recommends him to Vienna.
In the evening we finish Der gestiefelte Kater; before that R. sings some melodies from Preciosa and recalls the performance in Munich, also a concert in Basel at which the “Ocean” aria from Oberon was sung and he burst into tears, so affected is he by the touching sounds, the idealistic naturalness of Weber’s music. He then speaks about the death of Klärchen in Beethoven’s music to Goethe’s Egmont and plays the three chords which for him represent necessity, the extraterrestrial.