Sunday, May 21:
Gave the two children a piano lesson. The music teacher Federlein also offers his services and sends his essay on Die Walküre. Richard is now out walking; I stay at home, write to Claire, and continue rehearsing with the children.
In the evening read once again in Carlyle about the Battle of Torgau and came to the conclusion that we had allowed ourselves to be led astray by the popular assumption that Ziethen had saved the battle, and by the legendary embrace. Frederick rebukes him with justice, and he does so in a remarkably regal and dignified way, for Ziethen had spoiled things for him entirely. Thus the great man is right as always, and one must believe him, for he knows no envy.
A week ago today we were in Darmstadt. At midday I told R. how curious it was that all performances, Fifth Symphony, Tristan, Meistersinger, no matter how good, leave me to a certain extent cold, but I feel ecstatic when R. talks to me about Beethoven, when he tells me of his first conceptions. I cannot put myself in the position of the audience but, rather, feel as if the work becomes disassociated from me as soon as it takes on an outer form.
R. says he feels exactly the same way, and he knows that we shall regard our Nibelungen theater with cold pleasure, watching and observing. “For ourselves we do not need it; our pleasures lie in the idea.”