Friday, November 26:
R. had a good night; he does some work and then goes for a little walk, but it takes hold of him again, what he calls the crab in his chest.
Our friends the Grosses, whose warm friendliness does us good. Feustel’s idea of publishing the piano score of Parsifal by subscription, which would perhaps make America unnecessary. [Added in margin: “Mon bel ange, Belgiojoso,” thus R. addresses me in the morning.]
Wolz. comes in the evening. R. talks about Schelling, how sad it is to see such good minds as C. Frantz’s going astray; with us genius must always be original genius, all on its own. Then he explains his thoughts on the way to look at history, from the standpoint that all history shows decline. He also talks about emigration for religious reasons, in order to establish new communities and a new humanity, since our climates are unsuitable.
After supper he reads an act of Der Bauer als Millionär to the children, and to me, after the children have gone to bed, some more of his letters to Uhlig. He is pleased with his words about my father, and that he never failed to recognize him. Also his opinion of the Wagner family.