Monday, November 13:
R. tells me in the morning that he has again been thinking of his three nightmares: Voltz and Batz, Lucca-Strecker, and Firstner; the last of these will not, for example, release the score of Tannhäuser: “If I now want to revise Tannhäuser, I shall have no score.” This brings him to business relationships, and he says it is the Jews who have introduced all these sharp practices. He says it is curious that such Jewish operas as [Goldmark’s] Die Königin von Saba and [Rubinstein’s] Die Makkabäer have established themselves, a clear sign of the change in public taste.
When, at about two o’clock, I return from a long walk with Siegfried, R. hands me the copy he has made of my “reminiscence”; he says he enjoyed occupying himself with it. At lunch he talks about the history of the Persians and regrets, as if it were a crime, not having told our friend how much he admires this work. Since before the end Fidi leaves with Hausburg on a trip to Murano, I relate a few things he said to me about this new companion, to R.’s great amusement. But toward evening he is greatly annoyed by the music lesson, when he hears Herr H[ausburg] playing to Siegfried a melody from Lucia di Lammermoor. R. at once writes to Fritzsch asking for another collection of melodies besides the Kohler one, the choice, arrangement, and connecting material of which he greatly dislikes. In the evening he is still very agitated over this incident, also over a stubborn and silly reply from Fidi (about Murano). That is how touchy he is nowadays, he tells me. He withdraws for a while, then comes to me and plays the melodies. When I say to him in connection with the “Slumber Song” from La Muette that something as charming and natural as this surely places Auber above Berlioz, R. replies: “I should think so. Berlioz searched for such things, but with him it sounds artificial.” He tells me he has written to Wolzogen and told him to reply, if someone asks who is the author of the article Wahnfried (Fuente Ovejuna), that it is he. He has also told him to think of the Blätter in the broadest terms, free of all limitations, and expressed his regrets that he is left so much alone in Bayreuth. At supper he returned once more to the subject of his feelings of guilt for not having read the history of the Persians during Gobineau’s lifetime and talking to him about it. We chat together until nearly half past eleven and have to laugh over the way we converse as if we had just met! R. also talks about our stay in Venice, the painful desertion of Wahnfried. We still do not know what our life is to be! We regret spending so little time in our lovely house, but the thought of the climate and much else besides makes R. shudder. Talking of his health, he says today that he has found a good balance.