Tuesday, June 27:
Still rain; but R. is working, that is my sunshine. When, visiting him while he is at work, I tell him that, he says: “And do you know what makes me feel so irresponsible toward everything? The fact that I have you; none of our evil experiences touches the nerve of things; so I, too, can be single-minded. If I had had you with me in Paris, I should not have let myself in for all those things. The only trouble is, we came together too late; I want to enjoy it for a long time yet.”
Uncharitable feelings over my father’s behavior. R. has composed Hagen’s aria. He says, “While doing it I was thinking of you asleep; I was uncertain whether to let him express himself in silence or not; then I remembered how you talk in your dreams, and I saw I could let Hagen voice his emotions, which is much better.”
We are appalled by the triviality of the musical setting for the entry of the troops, a “Kaiser Wilhelm March” by I. von Bronsart. “Music, if only bagpipes, haste! We have plenty of appetite, if not much taste.” In the evening more Carlyle, with ever-increasing enjoyment. R. has a pamphlet on the theory of music by a Dr. Carl Fuchs, which pleases him very much.