Sunday, August 6:
The curious subject of spirit rapping continues to occupy us, since our poor friend Liechtenstein, who is interested in it, seems to have been the victim of an evil deception. The persistence of the bad weather makes him curse ever having settled here. I cannot in all sincerity do other than stand up for our little town and Germany, and I consider the drawbacks of our life here to be far less significant than the advantages. We are alone for lunch, and then we drive to the theater, where today Frau Materna and Herr Gudehus (Herr Winkelmann being ill) are singing. R. criticizes some things he finds not at all good, for example, Kundry’s advances to Parsifal after the great outburst, but the eagerness of the singers as always touches him anew. However, the day is dominated by ill humor. In the gallery he misses Siegfried, whom I have left at home for his own good, also Daniela, whom I have surrendered to the Schleinitzes, because I no longer dare ask them to our house, since recently he felt uneasy in their presence. But these concessions of mine do not meet with his approval, and I resolve to revert to my former ways. When he is in such an excitable state he makes errors in his diet, and late this evening he was still wandering excitedly in the garden.