Saturday, January 28:
R. had a good night, but after his morning bath he has a prolonged spasm and joins me at breakfast looking run down. He gradually calms down and takes delight in the sky and the sun and the country. I drive out to Porrazzi, and since the sky is wonderful and the mountains make a glorious impression on me, I am able to give him a cheerful report and get him to regard our move favorably. Unfortunately the mail brings him an unjustified demand from the agent in Frankfurt; he immediately sends a telegram to friend Gross, telling him to withdraw the rights from the director there, Dr. Claar; then, out of humor, he tries to take a stroll in the garden, where he is “goggled at” by some ladies, which irritates him, and he comes to lunch dissatisfied. “What a world it is!” he exclaims in connection with the agent. But he calms down, and though he first of all feels my equanimity regarding Lulu’s visit (“When the witch interferes,” he says, meaning Princess W., “everywhere is Hell”) to be stiff and cold, he gradually comes around to my way of seeing things, after I have assured him that, difficult as I may sometimes find certain things, I can never forget how much happier I am than others. A look from Siegfried, the sweet faces of the girls, even my ability to feel the greatness and sublimity of Nature as I did today - all this fills me with gratitude. And even some disquiet concerning how differently the elder girls have turned out - this, too, tells me in the mighty language of Nature that it was right to dissolve my first marriage, and teaches me patience and timid, though joyful, resignation. — R. agrees with me that this is the way to look at life, but he says, “Our union started 15 years too late!” In the afternoon I drive out to Porrazzi, R. follows with Eva, but he is in poor spirits because of indisposition, and he cannot bring himself to like the new house. In the evening friend Rub. plays the Tannhäuser Overture to us, but R. does not enjoy it, and we are filled with regret that a person so excellent in his own way should seem so alien to us; R. even goes so far as to say that he would prefer it if he were no longer with us, though he has the highest opinion of him. — Reading the final chapter of Renan’s M. Aurèle together, we have to smile over the remark that Jesus resembled nobody as little as his followers! ... The chapter itself is interesting on account of its subtle analysis, but it annoys one with what R. calls its “trivial mixing up of everything,” its Jewish optimism. At lunch R. tells us that Schnappauf was today erroneously arrested as a thief, but was soon released. — R. is still much upset by the Tagblatt episode; he talks of writing himself, then of canceling his subscription, but then he decides to do nothing.
Sunday, January 29:
R. was up once during the night, and for quite a long time, but then he fell into a good and gentle sleep. In the morning he tells me that he had been thinking of writing a piece for the B. Blatter criticizing Renan’s final chapter. He points out how shallow his idea of a miracle is, and contrasts it with Schopenhauer’s profound theory. He finds this all the more regrettable in that Renan has said excellent things about monasteries, the cult of the saints, and the way the masses have modified Christianity. How splendid R.’s eloquence as he describes miracles to me in Schopenhauer’s sense! — He has returned with enjoyment to Kant. — Around midday he calls on Countess Mazzarino, whom he fails to see, but Abbé Jecker shows him around the lovely palazzo, which pleases him. He talks jokingly of this, saying it would probably lead to his being poisoned. He is thinking of writing friend Wolz a letter; he would not know what to do with it, that is to say whether to publish it or not. Among other things, he would like to forestall Schemann with Cherubini. He has now given up the idea of a journey on the Nile, having read yesterday in the guidebook that it is bad for people with abdominal complaints. — Rub. dines with us today, since he is accompanying Boni and me to a concert; K. talks at table about present-day Italians and how they justify Gobineau’s views. He is annoyed that Gobineau cannot find a publisher for his book and that he intends to publish it at his own expense. He comes back to his idea of dramatizing Nap., and says it should be done in the style of Abelard. News I have received from Princess W. about Lusch’s abusive remarks on Rome upset me greatly, for I so dearly wish my children to be well behaved and dignified. R. defends Lusch, saying that he is pleased she should experience feelings of disgust there and also give expression to them. He says I am wrong to demand anything else. I observe that an experience such as Lusch has just been through should be given a more refined and elegiac form! But how fine and how kind it is of him to speak in her defense and how willing I am to listen, alas! When I cite Marie Wittg. and how nobly she bore all the miseries of her youth without complaint, he says, “That is why she became such a passive person - everything in her was struck dead.” We play whist in the evening.