Wednesday, July 19:
R. is feeling unwell and cancels the rehearsal. We have breakfast in the turret, he then has lunch on his own, or, rather, he has no lunch and spends the whole afternoon in the summerhouse. After coffee I go to join him, he reads Hoffmann, I the Oupnekhat; now and again we exchange a few words and are happy. The doctor has given him something to calm him down; he looks in during the evening and finds him well, reassures me by finding all his organs completely sound. Herr Scaria comes and gives a good report of the rehearsal.
We have supper with my father and R.; later Malwida arrives with Stein and Jouk. Among other things R. is preoccupied with the thought that there is no appeal against science, against medicine; vaccination, for example, which is now regarded as harmful, was made compulsory by the state for 20 years! He complains about military music, the vulgarity of which does indeed annoy us. When Stein tells us that Dr. Schemann is quoting his saying, “I am no musician,” R. jokes about this misunderstanding and sings, “He is no musician, he says it himself,” to the tune from Figaro, “He is my father,” etc. After I have already said good night to him, he comes into my dressing room and says, “The nicest thing of all is when we are sitting side by side in silence, as in the turret today.” While we were sitting there, he looked at me and said: “There has never before been anything like us. Absurd, eccentric relationships maybe, but never us two ...”