Monday, August 11:
As I went to bed last night, I remembered that it was the night of the Perseids, and I invoked all their blessings on R., in fulfillment of my single wish. R. slept well and received a nice letter from the King, which he read to me; then I was suddenly summoned, and the doctor told me that Eva, who had been slightly unwell since yesterday, has scarlet fever. Many precautions must be taken; the others are to go to the Sonne, since there is no room there for the sick child, who is very quiet and resigned.
In the evening R. and I sat in the salon, with curious feelings. I was particularly concerned by R.'s complaining to the doctor of pains in his chest. Perhaps his first shock.
Tuesday, August 12:
Eva had a restless night, but the doctor is not worried. Breakfast with R. in the children's salon; the children are not being sent to the Fantaisie but will be put up at the Riedelsberg through friend Feustel's kindness. In this matter one can see both the difference and the harmony between R.'s character and mine. The Riedelsberg occurred to me because I found it hard to think of the children in a hotel, the Fantaisie, but I should never have doubted it: R. wrote at once and arranged it all.
Very fine weather. R. visits Eva, who cries when she sees him. At lunch R. says his feelings of sympathy prevent him from working, but over coffee in the summerhouse he is cheerful, enjoys the day, and thanks our life, in which even a heavy blow turns out well. I stay at home with the little invalid; he visits the children and the Feustels at the Riedelsberg and returns home very contented.
A letter from P. Nohl gives him cause to believe that Jews have taken over the musical periodicals, Kahnt's and Leuckart's, and that gives him the theory that Jews are after all better than cultural Philistines. Then he tells me of the biography of Beethoven; much delight at the words, “No more operas, I shall write in our way!” The description of B.'s return home, however, after the performance, his going to sleep in his green jacket, cuts me to the heart: nobody to receive the great man, just Schindler with an …
Wednesday, August 13:
R. tells me he dreamed that he wanted to play the A Minor Quartet with me but could not, since he wanted to take it in. He told me that he had had a very unpleasant dream about a Mme. Claudius from Magdeburg, and he feared that in death all sorts of “stupid stuff” would come back to him.
R. got up at five o'clock and wrote down something which he told me yesterday evening he had composed. It touches me strangely; the stillness at the bedside of the little invalid had come into my mind, which I wished to present to R. on the 25th; the quietness and the unity of our life made me aware of what was in my feelings.
The children came from the Riedelsberg to eat with us, R. went there but returned home feeling low; the children's gloomy spirits had upset him. In the evening we read about vivisection in the newspaper.
Thursday, August 14:
R. had a good night, and our little girl's illness is running its normal course. We continue to share the children between us: he the healthy ones, I the sick one. Luckily the weather is glorious, and though I have a headache, my mood is wonderfully happy, as always when I am alone with R., overshadowed only by the knowledge of my unworthiness and my worry about his health. He writes to Herr v. Weber, sends two marks for the society, and expresses his idea of reviving religion through the love of animals; the love of human beings, particularly with regard to vivisectors, is by comparison somewhat difficult.
In the evening Herr Rub.'s article on Schumann is in proof.