Saturday, September 13:
R. could not sleep; he was thinking of his patrons! He writes to Otto Wesendonck, inviting him to come and see the theater. I write to Herr Zacharias, encouraging him to set an example rather than give advice. The Crown Prince is coming after all; his arrival is suddenly announced. Much ado about putting up flags.
R.’s good mood comes to us like a blessing of God; although he has not got down to his work for weeks and is having nothing but unpleasant experiences, he is today full of good and amusing ideas for the sculptors! He says the good progress of my bust is giving him pleasure. Sitting twice daily robs me of much time, but if it brings him the least little bit of satisfaction, that is reward enough! My mother writes for the first time since February. My father also writes, only to say the original scores of Lohengrin and Holländer are a gift, but alas, alas, I cannot accept this, for it is being done without feeling! At 7:30 the Crown Prince arrives; the question of whether our theater should be illuminated is answered by the mayor in the affirmative, and like an apparition, like Wotan’s castle, it rises twice into view, bathed in a red light. The people give the Crown Prince a nice, spontaneous welcome; thoughts of the King - how everything takes its course. Very moved by the sight of the theater, we embrace each other, and R. says, “It is colored red with our blood!”