Friday, April 21:
In the morning R. recalls yesterday’s play and remarks how curious it is that after G[oethe]’s and Schiller’s works had already appeared, such rough and vulgar language could still be printed as that used in the translation of this play. At lunch he says to me that all one can do in our time is to practice criticism, confine oneself to exposing the lie; and apart from that promote the work of art! I observe that criticism serves to prepare the ground for this art.
In connection with a mulatto, custodian at the Palazzo Loredano, he tells me, half in jest but all the same very much in earnest, that he no longer finds human beings at all pleasing, even to look at, and he shares Schopenhauer’s feelings in finding no pleasure in the skin’s whiteness. We visit this Palazzo Loredano, and R. feels attracted by it anew. From there we go to St. Mark’s Square; R. asks the military band for [Rossini’s] Tadra Overture, which is then played, and very prettily.
In the evening he has some unpleasantnesses (Batz-Neumann, performance rights of T. and L.); at about 9 o’clock we go to Princess Hatzfeldt’s; the singers are awaiting us below, and they lead us there amid singing, moonlight, and Bengal lights, and also take us home. With the friendly Princess, R. is in very lively spirits, though, it seems to me, somewhat on edge.