Tuesday, July 30:
Much, much worry over Loldi’s eyes, which are very inflamed; yesterday and today I went with her to the hospital. R. writes to a scene designer in Vienna, Herr Hofmann, who, it seems, would like to take on the work for Bayreuth.
For Fritzsch’s periodical R. today writes a response to the errors in Herr Lang’s biography. He prepares his essay Actors and Singers.
At lunch he talks about the Kaisermarsch and says that on the first page, after the first four bars, he would like to reorchestrate the passage in which the chords are repeated: to start with some powerful instruments, and then gradually introduce the full orchestra; as it is, it sounds monotonous.
He completes the corrections to his third volume and laughs over the fact that he begins it with the reunion with Minna in Zurich and ends it with their reunion in Paris. “All this squandering of my life’s and my soul’s energies!” he exclaims. “The nonsense of all these relationships; I really believe that I must live only for my mission in life, for in Paris, for instance, nothing of a positive value emerged, I gained nothing from it; I just became harsher and harsher. Today I was correcting proofs of the time of the third act of Tristan and thought: If only the Grand Duke of Baden had offered me asylum then! But I was destined for other things, it all had to come about other than by a direct route.”
He concludes, “You are my element, my atmosphere, I exist only in you and the children.”
But, as everything has to be paid for, a wicked fate decreed that while in this expansive mood R. should fetch Dr. Lang’s article in order to read parts of it to me, and I must needs ask him to tell me nothing of what it contains. R. is hurt, does not understand that the mere mention of that name pains me, and so the payment is made.
On the Sappho sofa with the children; then, with R., drank milk in the Schweizerei. In the evening two scenes from Die Walküre. Letter from Malwida Meysenbug. Big thunderstorm.