Monday, March 4:
Letter from a Herr Dannreuther, very good, who reports the setting up of the Society in London. Splendid spring day, but R. is not well and is very unsettled, which sours for me the blue sky and the gleaming mountains, the singing birds and the fluttering butterflies! Out of doors a lot with Fritz, who leaves us in the afternoon; R. has done some work after all. In the evening he is tired; we read a little Schopenhauer. God give him strength and courage to complete his work! Blessings on him!
[End of the fourth notebook of the Diaries. The next begins: “In the fifth year of my happiness, March 1872.” In the margin of the first entry: “‘Papa always pomade,’ says Fidi as he goes into his father’s room and finds him shaving.”]