Friday, September 10:
After parting from me yesterday evening in a very cheerful mood, R. comes up to my room in the morning looking most despondent; it is reported in the newspaper that Das Rheingold is now really to be performed within the next fortnight. When we had read in the newspapers that R. had been put off ad calendas Graecas, we had breathed again, thinking the King had come to his senses at last, and now it is to be done after all!
Grief over the King's behavior, rather than the sacrifice of his work, is making R. quite ill. I draft a letter to the King, but R. does not wish it to be sent; he feels he has already said enough. Mood of great sadness. Letter from Professor Nietzsche, who reports that all newspapers are full of infamous accounts, talking of a complete break between W. and the King, etc. He asks for news, which I then give him.
Late in the afternoon Richter arrives. Das Rheingold is to be done in a fortnight, with all the roles changed; the singer R. rehearsed for Loge is to sing Mime, the orchestra has been reduced, etc., etc. The theater director is bribing newspapers on all sides, and now everyone is happily spreading lies. The members of the orchestra are much put out by all this and by the fact that they are to be directed by the most incapable of all conductors. But the wretches are within their rights.
In the evening I am vexed by a day spent without any children's lessons. We discuss with R. the fact that he can only be silent, that his works belong to the King, and if the latter wishes to use them as mere toys, R. can do nothing to stop him, and there is absolutely nowhere one can look for support.