Friday, October 6:
R. had a good night’s rest, and at breakfast he thinks about the festivals; says he would like to stage Tannhäuser, which he regards as a consummate drama, but then again not, since he feels that musically some things are insufficiently expressed. He observes that Tannhäuser, Tristan, and Parsifal belong together.
He looks for something in W. Scott, takes up a novel he does not know, but does not read it, saying he would prefer to read something he already knows, for that gives him an artistic pleasure. In the afternoon the two of us ride (with Stein) to Saint Mark’s Square in spite of the rain, meet the children there at Lavena’s, and ride home in two gondolas. The news I have just received that Jouk. has sent Pepino home stimulates R. into writing him a congratulatory message. Biag. buys a sheet of illuminated paper, R. writes, “We congratulate you from the bottom of our hearts,” and we all sign it. With the conductor R. goes on to the subject of what constitutes melody, and he cites as an example, in its long-drawn perfection, the theme of the Andante in Mozart’s C Minor Symphony. R. does not care for brevity. Several things are mentioned from La Juive and even from Rossini; the conductor cites the final aria in Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride. Then R. has a splendid idea and reads to us the first two scenes of the second act of Julius Caesar. Portia’s speech, as he reads it, brings tears to my eyes. After the reading he recalls Calderon, just to remark how incomparable Shakespeare is, not literature, which Calderon is, but just drama. This was written before the invention of music, he says, and at times it seems quite sober. Then he reads his favorite scene, between Sir Toby, Aguecheek, and Maria. He remarks what a living character even Maria is, first treating the squire as she does and then joining with him against Malvolio! Everyone in Shakespeare has character, he says; Brutus’s boy servant - he would surely turn out to be someone very special if one could follow him up. In spite of the wretched weather, which is affecting him, R. is cheerful. At supper he plays at spirit rapping and suddenly, to the astonishment of us all, knocks, while still seated, with his right foot on the table, a piece of agility which surely nobody else would be able to copy. He laughs about all the many daughters he has; he tells me that instinct connects Loldi with him - however far away she is sitting, she laughs at jokes of his which nobody else notices. And we, too, have to laugh a lot over his high spirits; when I tell him about a certain Frau v. B., saying that her financial position does not allow her to take a gondola, and hence she goes out with nobody: “That’s a great stroke of luck for nobody!” And “Such friendships I approve of for you - keep that one up!” Today he wrote to Herr Gudehus, but reproached him, as he tells me, for not coming back.