Tuesday, September 26:
R. slept well, and I hope that he will stick properly to his diet. He writes to friend Glasenapp and jokingly praises himself for this deed. Over coffee, when friend Rub. asks him for his opinion about the orchestration of the “Pictures,” he mildly but very definitely gives him to understand that he does not care to occupy himself with such things, which are a concession to publishers. Then all of us together view the Palazzo Vendramin, which pleases him greatly, and after that he goes with the children to Lavena’s. For the evening a ride in the moonlight had been planned, but he does not feel like it, and the children go alone. At around 5:30 I went for a little walk by myself, and on my return R. reads to me wonderful things by Buddha about beginning and end. Yesterday, talking of Weber, R. said, “When I first heard his melodies, Mozart’s ceased to mean anything to me.” And in connection with Rub.’s piano playing (I asked him, when R. was out, to play his “Pictures” to us), R. told me that he found all piano playing absurd!