Tuesday, September 24:
In the new house in town. Moved out and in on Saturday; lunch in the Sonne, much misery; no cook, not even a housemaid! Sunday, difficulties with breakfast: the refined temporary cook makes us no coffee, uses up all the water; coffee is at last made around ten, and our watchman pours it away, which at any rate turns our ill humor into loud laughter.
In the afternoon arrival of our nephew Fritz Brockhaus, not exactly convenient, since everything is still in a state of disorder and R. unfortunately not at all well. Monday, the day goes by better; shopping, accompanied Fritz to the railroad station with the five children; lunched haphazardly at home, R. still unwell; in the evening played through some Beethoven sonatas.
Visit from Herr Feustel, who tells us many things about the discord between Prussia and Bavaria: the King upset the Crown Prince by failing to offer him any of his empty palaces to live in when the Crown Prince announced his intention of visiting Bavaria; the Crown Prince thereupon offends the King by simply announcing that he will inspect the army, which by the terms of the Treaty of Versailles can only be done with the consent of the Bavarian government; so the King then commands Herr v. Gasser to set up an administration to safeguard his rights; this comes to nothing, since the King refuses to receive Herr v. Gasser! God knows how it will all end.
Today began peacefully; only lunchtime, which we have to spend in a hotel, proves difficult. R., still not well, becomes very ill-humored, for which I cannot really blame him, for the situation is very uncomfortable: it is cold, there are no servants, only half our things here, the decorator burned out, on top of it all tremendous expenses. But Herr Hoffmann, the scene designer, has at last written to us, and there is to be a conference.
R. tells the Feustels about the Sultan’s certificates of patronage and says, “Now we shall have to look after a harem as well.” R. still touchingly kind and obliging, always begging forgiveness, while I am in constant misery about his difficulties and his indisposition!
In the evening he reads me Xenophon’s Hieron, once more astonished and dismayed to perceive how alien this world is to us. But the Greeks had one advantage over us: their almost animal-like naivete and integrity. To bed!