Wednesday, December 6:
R. had a wretched night, complains of great heaviness. But as usual our conversation at breakfast follows a smooth course, even though we begin with such difficult subjects as remembering what led R. to his flight to my father in ’49, the parting from Minna; he tells me how sorry he felt for her, until she herself forfeited it through her hardness. Elaborating on this subject, I tell him that I myself know what it is to enjoy the discomfiture of others — when people were unjust toward me, I was always overtaken by a cheerful, superior, indeed superstitious feeling that this would bring me luck.
I am unable to remember why he sings Loge’s “Weibes Wonne und Wert,” but he follows it by remarking how little appreciation has been shown for Das Rheingold, which he feels he “brought off fairly well.” He says Schopenhauer appears to have appreciated it; I express my disgust with the great philosopher for having so misunderstood the Ring; R. says he is convinced that a single visit would have been enough to put him to shame. Then he says, “Things like Herrig’s understanding of Siegfried give me pleasure and enable me to overlook a lot.”
Around midday our dear friends the Grosses appear on the doorstep! Several things: the King is eager to have Parsifal staged for him with our scenery; Holtzendorff is giving good and encouraging advice about how to deal with V. & B. Friend Gr. tells me there are reports that Neumann is going bankrupt (we keep this from R.). We arrange to meet our friends in the afternoon in the Piazzetta, but R. is beset by a spasm. We go to Lavena’s, where he soon recovers and jokes gaily with our friend about Venus, eclipses of the sun, etc.! In the evening R. discusses with friend Gross the price of seats, advertising the performances, etc.