Friday, June 17:
As we learn from Dr. Herrig’s letter, a Herr Ambros says in a Viennese newspaper that R. wrote his pamphlet on conducting solely in order to get himself appointed conductor of the Beethoven celebrations; wretched people, and nobody will ever learn that R. did not in fact reply at all to the invitation.
“My work, what a luxury!” said R. “Truthfully, I only do it so that you won’t be cross.” We read W. Meister. “Aurelie’s remarks about the German nation—remarkable how she sees what every great man has felt; I am glad to see that my feelings have such roots.” Great joy in Fidi: “One can see he is a child of the deepest love, and that this love had something to say.” Letter from the publishers, they want to do Rienzi in Munich and Vienna.
Our talk in the evening brings us to Spanish dances, which made an indelible impression on R. in his youth.
In the garden the two little ones play with the convicts, who are cutting the grass under supervision and give them strawberries. Loldi takes one of them some money, which we gave her for this purpose; a touching picture, but the faces terrible. “What a study!” R. says. “The whole obstinacy of Nature’s immutability is reflected in such faces.” The older girls with M[arie] Bassenheim, I go to fetch them and am shocked by the sight of the old Prince in decline. When I return home, R. tells me I should really never leave him, not even for a short while. The conversation about Spanish dancing leads us to talk of nations in general, and I request from him an attestation that I am German.