Monday, May 2:
R. slept well. A letter from Leipzig offers to sell him the house of his birth, whereupon R. says, “I can’t be born a second time.” When Georg asks whether he should take along a change of underclothing, R. says, “No, I’m not conducting, today I’ll only be grousing.” We arrive on stage; R. is greeted with a flourish and replies jokingly, “If you make so much noise, I can’t say a sensible word.” The rehearsal begins (1st and 2nd acts of Walküre), R. not with me at first, but then he comes; it goes reasonably well, the orchestra amazing, and when Frau Vogl, in fetching the utensils, does not match the action with the music, R. is still sufficiently good-humored to interrupt and call out, “We must do that again, or Herr v. Hülsen will run away.” And during another passage, “That will please even Herr v. Hülsen.” The orchestra fills us with astonishment, and in our friend Seidl we are able to take genuine delight. Scaria confronts us with certain Viennese cuts. R. points out how absurd they are, for example the entrance of the Wanderer, whereas it would be easier to make slight cuts in the course of the scene. [Added in margin: “This happened on the following day.”] The tone in which Herr Scaria speaks is reminiscent of earlier, painful experiences.
We eat alone together, R. and I, then drive to the rehearsal (3rd act of Walküre); much trouble with machinery and lighting, a Herr Scheibe (from Saxony) causes much vexation, he also at times causes laughter. We drive home, not too late, and are alone together. Lusch rushes in from a soiree at the Crown Prince’s, her accounts of it are not enlivening!