Friday, December 1:
Herr Hartmann sends us copies of his Propheten, prefaced with a letter from R., and Neidhart, with a letter from me, which truly appalls me, since my distaste for print and public attention grows ever greater. R. thinks my letter good and says jokingly I also have the advantage over him that it contains no misprints, whereas in his there are some which completely distort his meaning. He works on his pamphlet about the history of his Ring des Nibelungen. In the evening a letter from Frau Wesendonck, who has not understood me and gives me a lesson in world history; her tone annoys R. so much that he wants me to put off her visit next Tuesday. Letter from Countess B.; it seems that Lulu has been obstinately lying; I am very sad about it and consider what I should do to punish her. In the evening Schopenhauer, with great enjoyment. — We wanted to go out in the afternoon, but fear of the outside world kept us at home. R. preferred to stay with me and say nice, loving things to me. But in the evening he scolds me for taking Frau W. so seriously. “You really are silly,” he says, “but the dreadful thing about it is that you are so clever in your silliness!”