Tuesday, June 22:
Still in bed and feeble, but feeling somewhat better. R. goes to work on his sketches. “All these primitive hotchpotches, Wotan storming in, I no longer care for at all,” he says.
All five children with me, the Cinque Canti, R. calls them in fun. With regard to the two eldest, who show none of my characteristics, he says one can see to what extent Woman is like the earth in relation to the sun: she is entirely passive, and all that comes out is what Man puts in; except when Earth itself is stirred by emotions, by enthusiasm, when Tellus falls in love with Sol, then it, too, takes an active part. Orientals rightly regard Woman as the plowed field in which they scatter the seed. The image of Tellus and Sol provides a parable that can explain much, and one has it constantly before one’s eyes, since there is always day and night.
In the afternoon a letter for R. from Hans arrives, a report on the Tristan performance. It induces R. to repeat what he said once before to me: “The King of B. is all daemon, I have been studying what he does, and he acts by instinct; when he stops to consider, he is lost. Without his even realizing it, his daemon tells him that, if he had gone along with me, had carried out my plans with real boldness, he and I would have gone completely to the dogs. In view of the wickedness and mediocrity of people he does whatever is possible to preserve my works for the world, but I cannot take much pleasure in his activities.”
Some person was here again to request R.’s support in some unsavory Munich affair; Councilor Pfistermeister and Sauer, the adjutant, seem to think that only R. has any influence with the King!
Still Eckermann, and with the children Grimm’s fairy tales.