Friday, May 9:
R. had a good night. He delights in the call of the peacock which he heard last night, says he feels as if he is in India; the character of the call seems to him to be that of a question, and its first note reminds him of a muted trumpet. At lunch R. praises his “croupiers” and gaily recalls last night.
After lunch news of the so-called Wagner Concerts in London, which are reported to have attracted no audience, and then of Lohengrin in Paris. The statement that the audience burst into applause after “Einsam in trüben Tagen” brings from R. the remark: “That is typical of the French - the nice side. But how difficult it is to find good things to say of the Germans!”
R. goes out, and I too, but when I return home I find he is not well: the rough wind has upset him, and he eats no supper. He was in Angermann’s, was pleased by the strong and handsome figures there. “Ours is no vanishing race,” he says.
In the evening he reads to us all sorts of curiosities from the newspapers, about the nihilist movement and observations concerning the female skull. When Rubinstein remarks, “The female nihilists in Russia should be told about that,” R. says, “But at least they are listening to their hearts; they think, ‘If only we knew as much as men, we should soon change the state of things.’” This nonsense about the value of knowledge leads to a discussion on vivisection, which makes R. very angry. But he does not feel well, and we soon go off to bed.