Thursday, June 6:
R. had a terrible night. Birthday greetings to Fidi, who is three today. R. cuddles and kisses him. Letters from Clemens, who sends his Prudentius, and from Dr. Kafka, who announces twenty certificates of patronage. In contrast, one of the workers declared yesterday that, if the wages are not raised, they will stop work on the building.
Birthday banquet in the large dining room: a cake with three candles, German champagne; our friends bring two canary birds; gay, good spirits. R. tells us where, for him, Germany’s history has been focused since the sixteenth century: Luther, Gustavus Adolphus, Frederick the Great, Bismarck.
Around six o’clock he drives off to the Thursday gathering, where he meets the always refreshing Feustel and the magnificent dean. Feustel is always being called upon to tell about his frequent journeys; it seems as if everywhere preparations are being made for a renewal of the war against France. Wherever he, Feustel, met Bayreuth guests, there was nothing but praise for the festival.
Niemann was ordered to Berlin from Kissingen to sing Lohengrin at the command of the Crown Prince of Italy. In the beerhouses in Munich people are saying openly that the present King will be the last King of Bavaria if he does not marry, for they are not prepared to be ruled by Luitpold’s family; they would become too Prussian!
I spend the evening in the Goldener Pfau with our friends. R. returns around twelve o’clock. The motto he has given to this day: “To him who has pulled off the great triumph, child of Frau Kosel to be.” Fidi gives us untold joy.