Tuesday, June 14:
In the morning long discussion about W. Meister, which continues to enchant us. The children with the landlord, so I write to Judith and deal with some business letters; very close atmosphere. In the afternoon read W. Meister with R. In the evening, contemplation of the print Die Melancholie, which Prof. Nietzsche gave me, brings us to a comparison between A. Dürer and [J.] S. Bach. “Both,” says R., “should be regarded as the conclusion of the Middle Ages, for it is nonsense to regard Bach as of our own time. Both endowed with this rich and mysterious imagination, dispensing with beauty but achieving sublimity, which is greater than all beauty. The poet one might put beside them is Dante, though he is less congenial because not so human, meaning not a Protestant.”
The A.A.Z. arrives and contains a nasty piece about Die Walküre: “Previously the interest in W[agner]’s work was great, now nobody talks about it.” R. very upset by this malicious distortion of all known facts. “It is not the malice itself which constantly amazes one, but the new forms it continually and with downright genius manages to find.” When I tell Vreneli always to hand the newspapers to me first, she informs me that in the spring some vile caricatures, the contents of which she is quite unable to confide to me, had been sent from Munich; she had burned them! (Letter from Claire.)