Friday, September 3:
The new parlormaid installed. Much calculating and working.
R. in cheerful mood, thinks of Die Meistersinger and says he does not know where he found the mood for so happy an affair - that is to say, he certainly does know! He expresses once again his distaste for lyric poetry; when I remind him that he wrote the poem An Dich he says, “Oh, those are catastrophes, not poetry; one doesn’t print such things.”
In the evening continued reading San-Marte.