Friday, May 16:
The wretchedness of Herr Fürstner gives R. no rest; he writes to him early in the morning. We have to laugh, because I, too, was already sitting, pen in hand, early in the morning. I wrote to Brandt about tableaux vivants.
The children come up; R. says, looking at Fidi, “He will turn out better than I, but that will be counterbalanced by the fact that he will not have such a wife as mine, though I hope not the 30 years of my first marriage, either!” He remembered yesterday evening that it was 10 years since he had settled in Vienna, all these attempts leading to nothing.
In the morning, in splendid weather, to a very disagreeable rehearsal of the tableaux vivants. When I return home, R. is in a very bad humor: a Herr Fiege has written concerning a reviewer named Wuerst in Berlin. On the occasion of Diener’s singing Lohengrin, this reviewer said: “From this one could see how much the performance would be worth, since Diener was Wagner’s chosen singer.” Herr Wuerst goes on to warn his readers against Wagner’s falsification of Beethoven; he says that in one passage Wagner talks of the horns ceasing to play, when in fact they continue to play. Now, R. had meant by that, and Herr W. well knows it, that the horns cease playing the main role, and the trumpets have to dominate. What wretchedness! And because of it a whole splendid morning’s work is lost!
In the afternoon I go with R. to the new house. I leave him in order to visit the Ritters and am scolded by him, at half past seven in the evening, for coming home so late and deserting him to go for a walk by myself. We finish reading the very interesting articles, but immersing oneself in such a subject is really unsavory.