Tuesday, October 10:
Eighteen years ago today I saw R. for the first time. It was in Paris; he read Goetterdaemmerung to us, “which I am only now completing; without you it would never have dawned,” he says.
I did not have a good night, since Fidi kept coming to me. Around noon R. calls me, in order to read to me Bruennhilde’s “An wen?” [“To whom?”], which, addressed to Hagen, occurs in the “duet,” and in which one sees that the wild woman of the rocks is the personification of melancholy.
In the afternoon we receive two issues of the Sueddeutsche Presse, full of invective against Rheingold and Walkuere. R. beside himself over the scorn and abuse he has to put up with. Visit from R. Pohl in connection with the Bayreuth exhibition affair. R. telegraphs to Herr Bratfisch about Tristan, reply paid, but no reply comes. Rothschild informs me that he cannot pay me!