Wednesday, June 14:
R. had a restless night and complains about the wild dreams which frightened him in the early morning. But he is in good spirits, and he talks to me of the absurdities arising from the music’s need to repeat itself-thus, for example, in Klärchen’s appearance to Egmont, when what she has already told him about his impending execution is repeated, it is as if she were saying to him: “Did you hear what I said? You are to be executed.” The same thing in the second act of Fidelio.
We have many Batz problems; he extricates himself by sending a telegram to Voltz, saying he wishes to deal only with him, and surrenders a fourth share of the royalties. He summons us to lunch with the tom-tom which has just arrived from London, but he himself comes in later, since his vexation over these Batz affairs has quite spoiled his appetite. He welcomes Herr Levi, just arrived; many things discussed, but quite pleasant ones. After lunch he goes for a walk in the garden despite the bad weather, then he comes up to my room and reads to me things from his letter, about my father, then about Brahms’s symphonies! Later he joins the Count, with whom I am talking, and plays the Meadow, but breaks off, distracted by a blackbird, to which he listens in enchantment. And it is quite true, the bird’s call is beyond description in its variety and wit, as R. calls it-also R.’s own calls to the little fellow sitting all by himself on the roof of the summerhouse in the rain and making such efforts to attract a mate: “You poor little creature,” “You good boy,” and many more! “The creatures are better than their Creator,” he says finally. A telegram from Voltz, announcing his arrival “very shortly,” amuses R. with its formulation. The R. Blätter contains an article against eating meat which impresses R. greatly; he says he wishes only to drink milk, he finds the idea of meat repulsive.
In the evening he plays his Bach prelude, then Levi plays an organ fantasy as well as a fugue from the 48 Preludes and Fugues, and finally a cantata is played, “Gleichwie der Regen und Schnee,” which, however, seems rather mastersingerish, clumsy. R. says that makes it all the more wonderful that the pieces we heard earlier had emerged from this same world! With regard to the Overture to Die Feen, R. spoke very strongly against publishing these juvenile or occasional compositions, “which in any case owe their origin to by no means the most auspicious of occasions.”