Sunday, March 20:
Bondi’s birthday, celebrated by us all, children are invited, fine spring weather. Children’s party, very merry. R. is very agitated. In the evening he says, “I am just on 57, and it is high time that I should be sensible—or at least pass as such.” Letter from Betz, the singer, prophesying a very good performance in Berlin, then one from Esser, the former conductor, reporting the most deplorable things about the Viennese production. Not a single word of the text understandable, the Night Watchman’s horn replaced by a trombone, the lute by a guitar! This does not exactly raise R.’s spirits.