Thursday, August 26:
The early part of the night was very restless, but later R. slept soundly and well. He tells me of a dream; he had lent somebody his golden pencil, and a woman kept giving him another one instead, finally a tin one, though he kept on saying, "Give me back mine, it is a souvenir from my wife," and she admitted that, but continued to offer him other ones, until he woke up. To me the curious thing about this is that yesterday I was bothered by a golden pencil, preoccupied with it.
A little incident of which Lusch told us proves annoying to R.: when friend Rubinstein played in Frau v. Schleinitz's house, to begin with something by R., Hans, who was present, cried, "Bravo," but when he then played the Opus 111 Sonata, Hans exclaimed, "I find that quite unrecognizable," and walked out. R. says he hopes Hans knows him well enough not to see his "school" in this. But the incident has once again made it clear to him how things stand with him and his cause, for not one of them, he says, remembers a tempo set by him.
He says of the Jews that in the long run they are a great burden; when they are any good, they have their souls to contend with. The newspapers are reporting a bad harvest in Germany, and the Illustrirte is concerned only with festivities, shooting competitions, gymnastic displays, etc., in connection with which R. is much annoyed by the Emperor's clothing: "When our Emperor unveils his mother's monument, he comes in a short jacket like a silly little boy. Why not use judges' robes for such an occasion?" Nice reply telegram from the King.
(I now remember how on the journey from Florence to Siena the sight of this on a bottle filled R. with pained indignation; such things were not proper, he said, yet nowadays ...) Evening, somewhat dejected, since R. does not feel well.