Sunday, March 5:
Will Fidi be a genius? I say no, geniuses are so rare. R. talks about it, about the genius's predestination: that a certain longing must be present and in the genius himself a dissatisfaction with things as he finds them. "Genius implies a huge imagination, with the strength to assimilate everything this imagination needs, hence a violent temperament, on top of that single-mindedness, no concern for life, hence in daily life unpractical."
Letter from my uncle: my father has done as I asked.
Family lunch; when the little ones speak of dying and Loldi declares she does not want to die, R. says, "There is a way of insuring against that; you must become French generals or emperors: they die, shoot, or poison one another, fling themselves into the heat of battle, but do not get killed!"
Loldi sings her lullaby: "Sleep, Sussliese, little child, the sun is there, the stars are there, sleep, little child, sleep." And Eva her song of Siegerhauer. "Siegerhauer is gone, Siegerhauer is no longer there." Who is Siegerhauer? "A gun."
We go for a drive; Loulou stays at home. Beer in the nursery; R. regards Fidi with melancholy. Will he lose us soon? Will we be able to protect him, will he also have to suffer like his father? Our delight in the children.
In the evening read about the death of Friedrich Wilhelm in Carlyle. R. observes that in his attitude toward French and German culture, Frederick the Great, one might say, is the spirit which always wants evil and always brings forth good.
Splendid spring weather. R. begins his work on The Destiny of Opera; in the evening he dips a little into Götterdämmerung, first act, and I was overwhelmed by the power of the music.
In the morning R. told me he had dreamed of a tooth which had been extracted from his mouth and which was terribly large; evil omen? Will we hear bad news of the King?