Saturday, October 8:
R. decides on an outing to Brunnen, the children are got ready; the sky clouds over, R. is about to tell the children that we are staying at home, but the dismay of the “regiment in blue” deters him, and we set off after all. Renewed lesson that we should not undertake anything outside; a foehn storm in Brunnen, we take a walk after lunch but are driven back by whirling dust. Richter stays in Brunnen with Herr Danike, Stephen Heller, Jaell and wife; Jaell, a Jew of the good-natured sort, comes up to me and converses with R. The fidgetiness of these people now has a horrible effect on me. Frl. Agathe Angermann sings us something, which causes R. to remark that naturalness is everything; this poor, unbeautiful person, already fifty or sixty years old, still has a charming voice, enunciates well, and, though her manner is very unpretentious and lacking in art, has no trace of lack of taste. Since the steamer does not stop in Brunnen (on account of the foehn) we drive to Gersau. There everything is quiet and peaceful, and we spend a happy hour on the terrace. Journey home in the dark, I give R. my hand, “the only hand”—he exclaims—“I know what I am holding when I take this hand.” His expression, nobly sad, moves me greatly. The children’s games tear us from our contemplative mood; R. has to try on all the children’s hats, and thus he romps around until we arrive in Lucerne. When we are about to descend the gangway we miss Rus, we call for him, and at last the captain tells us unconcernedly that he fell into the water. Awful moment, R. wants to go after him, we implore the captain not to let the ship sail, he reluctantly and surlily gives in, I have to hold on to the weeping children, I cry out to Richter on no account to let Wagner do anything; whistling, calling for Rus; if the ship moves, our dear dog will be done for. At last he swims ashore, at the place where the boats tie up, led there by his instinct. R. meets him sobbing. I turned to stone with anxiety for R. Thus ended this pleasure outing; always I hear the voice that cries out to me: Stay in the haven to which you have come! However, the children enjoyed themselves greatly.
We were unpleasantly affected by all the French we had to listen to; R. mentioned the Campaign in France, remarking, “So free a being, who sees everything, understands everything, shows such deep compassion, and yet remains so cheerful that he is always a help to others—how could he be anything but a German?”
(Herr Fritzsch sends the payment for Beethoven.)