Saturday, November 16:
Ten years ago today I came to join R. We celebrate the day in our thoughts; we go through all our memories, virtually all the details of our life together, and if R. invokes blessings on me, how much more must I bless him, who has given me everything, everything! As we go upstairs after lunch, R. says, “And we have been blessed.” It is true: everything has prospered, children and works!
“How quickly these years have passed!” R. says. He recalls that I was very solemn when I first arrived, like Kundry; I had had only one wish, to serve, to serve! A lovely day, wonderful sunset, rose-colored clouds, a lovely feeling of being at home here; Tribschen a dream, this the reality, but also ideal, sheltered from the world.
R. thought of the concerts in London, the departure, at the end, of the well-dressed ladies with their trains — “like a lot of Erlkings”; of his saying something they did not understand to three ladies who were going out while the music was still playing! Then (in ’55) how, before starting the Water Carrier Overture, he tried to wait until all the departing people had really gone, and how they stopped in alarm and then applauded at the end — but great consternation among the concert managers! He says artists there are regarded as mere domestics, and when someone comes along with a feeling for the dignity of the occasion, everybody gets worked up. (It was of the Meistersinger quintet in London (1877) that R. said, “It sounded like Der Dorfbarbier”!)
At coffee time he sang “Drei Knablein fein jung und weise,” admiring the way Mozart constructed his melody on this text; “He never composed anything foolish,” he says.
In the evening utter absorption in old times, so many sufferings. How good it was of Fate to have removed him from Munich in ’65, R. says, for it precipitated a decision; how fortunate that Hans was just as he was, R. also observes, for otherwise we should either have been destroyed by his nobleness, or made by his baseness to look despicable in each other’s eyes. He sends for half a bottle of champagne, we drink to our life together, which has become happier and happier. “Except that I am too old,” R. observes. “I should be 15 years younger.” I: “Why?” “So that it could last longer.” I tell him that this was the only thing I have contributed, my little bit of youth, and that is already somewhat old!
Alone after this wallowing in reminiscences, I see in my mind once more my parting from Hans, my stay in Augsburg with the two girls, embarking on the ship, the stars, which Loldi noticed, the single light illuminating the dense black night in my heart as I watched over the children in the ship and gazed rigidly and numbly into the unveiled countenance of my destiny. That night was the womb of all my blessings, annihilating all pretense, a holy night, awesome in its acknowledgment of original sin, the silent prophet of love’s redeeming power!