Sunday, April 17:
Easter joys, Easter sorrows, and dressed Easter lamb. I conceal the eggs and then have to retire, because I feel worn out by even this little exertion. R. comes to me and says, “‘Hagen’s Watch’ will be colossal.” Toward noon he plays me the glorious piece he has just composed. Very good report in a new musical periodical about the Meistersinger production in Berlin, the many rumors which were circulated, nonsense which made it impossible for people really to hear the work. Letter to R. from the conductor Schmidt in Leipzig, who says that for him, after hearing Die Meistersinger in Berlin, it is no longer just a question, but a duty to art and the public to stage the work in Leipzig. Letter to me from E. Schuré, he talks of a morning reception at my mother’s. — I had just written to M. Maier when R. tells me she has written to him with news of Hans’s distressed condition in Florence, conveyed to her by his mother and sister. I can hardly believe that this is true, for all reports maintain the contrary, but my peace of mind is again shattered. “Oh, this mortal life!” R. has received the proofs of his Walküre text. How depressing! — R. said with regard to his biography, “I believe it will turn out terribly monotonous for the reader; eternal new beginnings, and nothing ever comes of them.”