Thursday, July 24:
R. slept well and today reaches the eleventh page of his article. He is pleased with the quip he wrote at the end (all the operas from Italy, France, and - Judea!). At breakfast we talk about state aid for our cause. Herr Schön wants to approach the Federal Council; R. would claim an allowance of three million marks.
In the evening, as we take leave of each other with an embrace, he says, “If our union leads to nothing, then I’m at a loss.” We enlarge upon this theme, and I am constrained to tell him my belief: that the Will felt the need to manifest itself in the festival theater, and thus it came about; what people would then do with it was their affair.
In the evening more about Schumann; Herr Rub. plays the Andante from the Sonata in F-sharp Minor, and R. laughingly agrees with me when I compare it with the drink known to no other nation but the Germans, the Maitrank, with strawberries, giving a curiously fuddling effect.
Toward evening, before our meal, he read to me the beginning of his article. Much concern about Fidi; fears of his falling into bad company! . . . Melancholy delight in the garden, which the municipal gardener laid out so neatly for us.