Friday, November 9:
R. had a curious dream that he was still a conductor in some obscure theater and, owing to the illness of the other conductor, was faced with the task of having to conduct Marschner’s Der Vampyr in the morning and Tannhäuser in the afternoon. He turned to Hans to ask him to take over one of the works, but Hans just looked at him in astonishment. The dream ended, after a few more grotesque images, with his being unable to write to me for 6 weeks, being prevented by all kinds of trivialities and by his own desire to write me a particularly good letter; his fear that all this would make me uneasy woke him up.
What again strikes me about this is that the grotesque happenings were, as usual, the same ones that had come into my mind during the night when I was unable to sleep. I was sleepless because I was worrying about the sort of night he was having; since he was sleeping, I thanked God, but was unable for a long time to overcome my worries and was troubled by all sorts of things as I lay awake. R. works. Letter from Herr Pollini, who has now acquired the King but is unwilling to accept R.’s recommendation that he employ Herr Brandt and Herr Hoffmann. In the evening quartets played by the Munich Court musicians: Beethoven’s Opus 135; indescribable impression of the adagio, arousing real yearning - these sounds are like a legacy from the greatest of mortals, a heart’s treasure - inexpressible emotions of release within me!
Before that a Haydn quartet, infused with masterly intellectual vigor, and then one by Mozart, unfortunately very banal. Only in the adagio is there one page which soothes my ears like the comforting words of an angel. Mozart’s sweet melody in all its grace, but unfortunately an isolated instance; the work as a whole insignificant. During it R. noted a theme which came into his mind, but afterward it no longer pleased him, or he could do nothing with it.