Friday, July 8:
R. had a good night, and we have breakfast in the summer pavilion in fresh and pleasant weather. Then I walk to friend Feustel’s to discuss all kinds of business matters, particularly the publication of Parsifal; the contract with Schott is bad, but I believe I have found a way of persuading Dr. Strecker to cancel it. The Emperor has refused to take up a guarantee certificate, but I do not tell that to R. He is working out the performance dates with the help of next year’s calendar. He is somewhat worn out from his cure, but he organizes an outing to the Fantaisie and a trout supper at Dommayer’s; this turns out very well, and we receive the liveliest proof on the highway of what it means to be traveling. R. sends Siegfried in pursuit of two journeymen whom he sees passing by, to give them alms unbidden. We return home at 9 o’clock, very content, and then start talking about the Ring; R. remarks, “Wotan’s rage is very fine, since it leads to the breaking of his will.” It is also decided that Jouk. will now paint R.’s portrait for me. When, referring to the maliciousness of various people, I say to R., “Forgive them, for they know not what they do,” he replies, half in jest and half in earnest, “Don’t say that too often, I am using it in my next article.”
Saturday, July 9:
R. slept well, but during this night, too, he greeted his star (we think Mars). My night was taken up by toothache, and so we do not have breakfast together. He is run down all day, and I fear that the waters do not suit him. Visit from our friend Glasenapp from Riga; in the evening R. gets me to read aloud a fable from Jacolliot’s book. Over coffee he mentioned that it was probably the beauty of India which had made all visual arts superfluous, and he adds that these probably arise simply as an expression of longing.
(Nürnberg, 2 o’clock in the afternoon, Goldner Adler!)