Sunday, March 10:
I feel really indisposed; perhaps the break in my usual daily routine is to blame. R. is very tired and languid, but he says he has had a good inspiration and has 'cast Klingsor down.'
He goes for a walk to the Rollwenzel tavern. I have to write to friend Heckel, who appears to have been brought into a state of complete confusion by his theater management. R. again recalls the performance of Die Meistersinger and the fine behavior of the King on that occasion. In the afternoon R. and Hans Wolzogen set the whole of culture to rights, as he puts it.
In the evening we read Waverley; R. says he greatly admires novelists: this art form is as incomprehensible to him as perhaps his stories are to others.