Friday, July 29:
Spent the morning with Prof. N.; R. reads passages from his essay on Beethoven. I am surprised that I can follow it so well, since I have never studied philosophy. After lunch Herr N. introduces his sister to me, a nice, modest girl. Later, sudden arrival of our friend R. Pohl, engaged in fleeing from Baden territory. Richard compares our motley company with the Decameron—as they fled from the plague, so we from the war. The French visitors arrive as usual and the conversation is lively. (Austria, as well as England, Italy, and Switzerland, is behaving abominably—that so-called sage objectivity which accords the same treatment to an honest man—Bismarck—as to a rogue—Napoleon.)