Cosima's Diaries

Recordings by Cosima Wagner between 1869 and 1883

Cosima Wagner’s diaries are one of the most extraordinary inner records of nineteenth-century artistic life: part household chronicle, part spiritual notebook, part Bayreuth archive, and part psychological portrait of Wagner’s final years. Across thousands of entries, we see the daily world behind the myth: children, servants, illness, money, visitors, letters, rehearsals, readings, quarrels, weather, politics, music, and moments of almost mystical illumination. The diaries follow Wagner from the intimate Tribschen years through the creation of Bayreuth, the triumph and crisis of the 1876 Ring Festival, the making of Parsifal, the rise and collapse of the Nietzsche relationship, and the darker ideological currents that increasingly gathered around Wahnfried, including Wagner and Cosima’s antisemitism. They are not a neutral record, nor always a comfortable one, but they are indispensable: a vast, intimate, often beautiful, often disturbing window into the household where Wagner’s final works, his self-mythology, and the Bayreuth idea took shape.

The diary entries gathered here cover the years from January 1869 to February 1883, carrying the reader from the last Tribschen years to Wagner’s final days in Venice. Their breadth is astonishing. They are at once a household record, an artistic logbook, a spiritual notebook, a political barometer, and the intimate chronicle of a private circle attempting to become a public institution. Cosima records children’s illnesses, lessons, servants, meals, letters, debts, travel, weather, music-making, rehearsals, guests, books, dreams, religious reflections, and Wagner’s daily moods. The sublime and the administrative are never far apart. A passage on Schopenhauer, Shakespeare, Calderón, Beethoven, or Christ may sit beside anxieties about singers, money, doctors, railway journeys, or household arrangements.

The early years, especially 1869 to 1871, still belong largely to the private world of Tribschen. They are filled with the pressures surrounding Cosima’s separation from Hans von Bülow, her union with Richard Wagner, the birth and childhood of Siegfried, and the intense domestic enclosure in which Wagner’s later work was nurtured. Yet the outside world continually enters: King Ludwig, Munich theatrical politics, the Franco-Prussian War, German nationalism, and the first sustained appearances of Friedrich Nietzsche. Wagner’s work on Siegfried and the wider Ring is recorded not as a distant masterpiece but as something happening in rooms, at the piano, amid children, letters, exhaustion, and sudden exaltation.

From 1871 onward, the diaries begin to turn toward Bayreuth. At first it appears as an idea, almost a visionary solution to the failures of ordinary theatres. Soon it becomes practical reality: sites, architects, patrons, Wagner societies, subscriptions, guarantees, construction, copyists, singers, scenery, and the immense labour of creating a theatre for one artistic purpose. The move to Bayreuth and the building of Wahnfried do not simplify life. They intensify it. The diaries show Bayreuth not merely as a shrine, but as a project beset by money, politics, vanity, devotion, incompetence, faith, and fatigue.

The approach to the 1876 Ring cycle dominates the middle years. The Festival is presented as the culmination of decades of artistic striving, but Cosima’s record makes clear how fragile the whole enterprise was. Every singer, rehearsal, costume, curtain, orchestral problem, and financial arrangement seems capable of threatening the ideal. After the Festival, the tone shifts sharply. The achievement has happened, but its aftermath is troubled by deficit, press hostility, uncertainty about future performances, the proposed Society of Patrons, the founding of the Bayreuther Blätter, and the London concerts undertaken to repair the damage. Bayreuth has succeeded as revelation, but it has also become a burden that must somehow survive in the world.

After 1876, Parsifal gradually becomes the spiritual centre of the diaries. The entries from 1877 to 1882 increasingly revolve around its poem, score, staging, rehearsals, religious atmosphere, and practical realization. The world of the Grail enters the daily life of Wahnfried: Gurnemanz, Kundry, Amfortas, Klingsor, the Flower Maidens, the Temple, the Communion imagery, the question of sacred drama, and the problem of presenting a work that seems to demand reverence from a public theatre. At the same time, Wagner’s health, his travels, his growing weariness, and the family’s movements through Italy and Venice give the later diaries a more autumnal character.

The diaries must also be read with full awareness of their antisemitism. This is not a marginal feature. In the early years, anti-Jewish remarks often cluster around the controversy of Wagner’s Judaism in Music, hostile critics, the press, Meyerbeer, musicians, theatre politics, and questions of assimilation. By the later 1870s and early 1880s, the tone changes. Antisemitism becomes more sweeping, more political, and more programmatic. The entries increasingly connect Jews with finance, journalism, liberalism, modernity, social decay, and Germany’s loss of spiritual identity. The diaries also record Wagner and Cosima reading or discussing figures such as Disraeli, Stoecker, Gobineau, and writings on the so-called Jewish question. By 1881, this hostility has hardened into open sympathy for anti-Jewish agitation and fantasies of expulsion, separation, or emigration. The development is ugly, historically important, and inseparable from the world these diaries disclose.

That ugliness is made more complex, not less, by the fact that Jewish individuals remain present in Wagner’s life and work: friends, patrons, musicians, correspondents, and, most famously in the late Bayreuth circle, Hermann Levi. The diaries therefore reveal not a simple contradiction but a deeper moral failure: Wagner and Cosima could depend on, admire, or work intimately with individual Jews while still interpreting Jewishness itself through hostile and dehumanizing abstractions. Any serious encounter with these diaries must resist both sanitizing this material and reducing the whole archive to it.

The Nietzsche story forms another major arc. In 1869, Nietzsche enters as a brilliant young philologist and soon becomes a cherished visitor, correspondent, and intellectual ally. The early diaries record excitement over his writings, especially the work that would become central to the Wagnerian cause, The Birth of Tragedy. During the Bayreuth years he appears as part of the wider hope for a new German culture, one that might unite art, philosophy, and spiritual renewal. Yet the relationship gradually frays. His ill health, his independence, the influence of Paul Rée, his rejection of Schopenhauer, and the publication of Human, All Too Human transform him in the Wagners’ eyes from disciple into apostate. By the later entries, Nietzsche is remembered with bitterness, as a figure of disappointment, ingratitude, and betrayal.

What makes these diaries invaluable is precisely their mixture of greatness and blindness. They reveal the daily climate in which Wagner’s late works were conceived, defended, mythologized, and institutionalized. They show Bayreuth being born out of metaphysical ambition and practical desperation. They show Parsifal emerging from religious longing, theatrical calculation, bodily decline, and cultural polemic. They show friendship turning into estrangement, devotion turning into dogma, and spiritual aspiration entangled with prejudice. To read Cosima’s diaries is to enter the workshop, chapel, battlefield, and household of Wagner’s final years.

Year

Month

1869• 1870• 1871• 1872• 1873• 1874• 1875• 1876• 1877• 1878• 1879• 1880• 1881• 1882• 1883

Jan• Feb• Mar• Apr• May• Jun• Jul• Aug• Sep• Oct• Nov• Dec

Showing entries for August 1869 (31 total)

Date	Word Count	Subject	Content
August 1, 1869	247	Cosima wakes repeatedly with fears for Hans and of violence against herself before sitting by Siegfried and sorting Weber songs for Lusch. Richard writes Hallwachs that the legal authorization cannot simply be obtained, while Cosima insists that procedural unpleasantness matters less than the unrelieved sorrow of the heart. Nietzsche lunches happily at Tribschen, they accompany him toward Pilatus, and a playful outing with the children ends beside a patriotic telegram for Wagner.	Sunday, August 1: Every five minutes woke up abruptly, at first imagining Hans in sorrow, then had strange thoughts of a murderous attack on myself. Rose early, sat by Siegfried, and visited the other little ones. Before breakfast sorted through Weber's songs for Lusch; a simple little verse telling of the danger of wishes that come true arouses a melancholy mood in me. I have to weep. R. tells me he has written to Hallwachs, saying that the legal authorization I am required to give cannot be got so easily. R. would like to do it all by himself, in order to spare me the embarrassing details. I tell him the details and the so-called unpleasantness mean nothing to me; if he could free my heart of sad imaginings, I should accept with gratitude, but this he cannot do, and all the rest is a matter of indifference. Related to Lusch the life of Saint Anthony. At lunch Prof. Nietzsche, who is very pleasant and who feels happy at Tribschen. Afterward accompanied him to Hergiswyl with the children and R.; he is climbing Mount Pilatus. We go for a walk; a fine Sunday evening, peasants playing skittles. Beer and cheese beneath an arbor. Playful journey home with the children, Boni a dwarf, Lusch and Loldi giants. In the margin: Telegram from Dresden: “To the German Mastersinger R. W.: Reunion of German technical students, Elbschlösschen in Meissen. Performance of ‘Steersman's Song’ from Der fliegende Holländer. Enthusiastic cheers for the German composer Wagner.”
August 2, 1869	334	Rain and housework frame Cosima's letter to Claire and suspicion that Hans's divorce offer may be punishment after hearing of Siegfried's birth cruelly. Richard withholds Hallwachs's letter to spare her, but she asks not to be shielded from external vexations when her real suffering lies elsewhere. Music with Richard, the arrival of Tristan's first-act score, discussion of Liszt's works and Princess Wittgenstein's influence, and late reading of Tristan accompany her concern for Hans.	Monday, August 2: Heavy rain, housework. Wrote to Claire to ask her to write belatedly to Hans. Suspicion that Hans might have received news of Siegfried's birth in a cruel manner and is offering me divorce as a sort of punishment. R. did not wish to show me Dr. Hallwachs's letter. I beg him never to try to spare me things, since the things I find hard to accept all lie elsewhere than in so-called vexations. I can bear abuse and ignominy and such things more easily in areas where the heart is not involved. Hans promises not to try to take advantage of his rights. In the morning with the children, inking in the Siegfried score. Afternoon with R.; played the Faust Overture and two Haydn symphonies, during which we remarked that in matters of form Haydn is a greater master than Mozart. Arrival of the original score of the first act of Tristan. In the evening conversation about my father's works; R., very concerned about the turn his intellect has taken, speaks with preference of the Faust Symphony and even indeed of Mazeppa for its grand sweep, deplores the tiresome apotheosis fad and the use of the triangle, gong strokes, rattling chains in Tasso, etc. His church music, he says, degenerates into a very childish juggling of certain intervals. Sorrow that he never lived in really close communion with him. Regret over the influence of Princess W[ittgenstein], who like a savage could only appreciate the most vulgar of effects, musical chocs. Concerning Die heilige Elisabeth, Nietzsche yesterday remarked to me that it smelled more of incense than of roses. Today R. said that now, at the age of fifty, one knew what love was; everything prior to it had been mere amours. During the night I read Tristan und Isolde, and R., who knew I had taken the book upstairs with me, played some passages from it below as I read it in bed. Catulle Mendès sends a Swedenborgian poem of his; unfortunately it makes impossible reading.
August 3, 1869	262	Weissheimer's demand for repayment with interest irritates Richard, who sees it as revenge and as a false assumption about access to the King's money. The day includes children, sketches, a walk, Haydn duets, and a detailed comparison of Wagner's labor over inner detail with perceived looseness in Liszt and Bach's logical harshness. Cosima, in deep misery, tells Richard her hopes for each child's future and prays Hans lives long enough to receive happiness through Lulu.	Tuesday, August 3: R. reports that young Weissheimer is now quite simply demanding the return, with interest, of money which he spent in past days on himself. All on the assumption that R. has only to dip into the King of Bavaria's purse, and in revenge for R.'s not having secured a performance of Weissheimer's opera in Munich. Worked with the children. R. at his sketches. Walk with R. In the evening piano duets, Haydn symphonies. Regarding a passage in my father's Faust Symphony, R. says he himself would have found it impossible to leave the accompaniment as it is, on the assumption that nobody would hear it and would notice only the melodic line. He had today spent a long time over one passage, he said. “Not a soul will hear it, but that does not worry me; and it is in things like that that the pleasure of working really lies.” I: “But one does hear it; at least one is aware of the richness in the work.” R.: “There are great harshnesses in Bach, too, but they arise from the fidelity with which he leads the individual voices, from the logic of the thought, not from a sort of sloppiness.” In great woe I ask myself today whether one can live long with such misery. My wish in regard to the children is, as I tell R., that Lusch support her father, Boni marry a scholar, Loldi, Eva, and Siegfried live together. May God only grant that Hans live long enough for me to be able still to give him some happiness through Lulu!
August 4, 1869	96	Judith writes from Munich, but Catulle Mendes's article on Wagner's Lucerne house upsets Richard because it can discuss furniture but not Cosima, the children, or the real center of his life. The silence surrounding the King seems sinister, while Richard completes the third-act sketch. A woodland outing with the children in glorious weather lets Cosima associate the finest summer she can remember with Siegfried's birth.	Wednesday, August 4: A letter from Judith in Munich. In the evening also, unfortunately, an article by her husband: “La Maison de R. Wagner à Lucerne.” R. very upset by it. “The most important thing, my relationship with you and the children, they cannot mention, so they talk about the furniture.” One hears no word about the King; even his excursions are no longer reported in the newspapers; very sinister. R. completes his sketch of the third act. After lunch with the children in the woods. Glorious weather; the finest summer I can ever remember has produced Siegfried.
August 5, 1869	225	A children's paper delights the household while Richard copies his sketch for the King and Cosima continues inking the score. Hallwachs confirms that Hans learned of Siegfried's birth only in passing, making Cosima regret not telling him herself, though Richard says her silence was proper. Haydn's mastery, Lenbach's letter, longing for death, and Richter's query about casting Alberich end with Richard's weary command to be left in peace.	Thursday, August 5: Arrival of the paper La Poupée Modèle, a great delight for the children. R. copies out his sketch for the King. Continued inking in the score. After lunch duets with R., a Haydn symphony. Visit from Count Bassenheim. The children cutting and pasting things from the book. Letter from Lenbach, the painter. R. returns home from his walk, bringing a letter from Dr. Hallwachs. It is true that Hans learned in passing of Siegfried's birth. I regret not having informed him of it personally; R. reproves me for this thought and says it was proper that I did not do this. Heavy feelings; may Hans recover his spirits! In the evening a Haydn symphony; great delight in its masterliness. “In him,” says R., “one clearly sees how the popular genius finds its way. The form is more compact than in Mozart; he always went after the melody, had no time to spare for the work, with the exception of the four great symphonies. That is why these Haydn works are also much more interesting.” I hardly dare admit to myself how much I long for death. A telegram from Richter reports that they could not get the right singer for Alberich, and he asks whether they might accept the wrong one. R. replies, “Children and gentlemen, do what you will and can, but leave me in peace.”
August 6, 1869	199	Richard wakes grateful simply that Cosima lives, while she reflects on Goethe's Hilarie and her own wish to atone through renunciation. They copy and ink the score, Lusch dictates to Hans, and Boito's letter hailing Tristan as revelation promises Italian support. Haydn duets and worry over Claire's silence close a working day.	Friday, August 6: "Undeserving man, how happy I am! When I wake up in the morning feeling rather tired, I have only to tell myself that you are still alive and I am full of cheer." I tell him that I had read Der Mann von 50 Jahren during the night and had been greatly moved by Hilarie's renunciation. "Yes, yes, I know, you would dearly like to introduce some of that renunciation stuff here, but..." He broke off his banter. My main aim is certainly to dispel all passionate feelings and in this way to atone until I can make things good again. I ink in the score, R. copies, Lusch dictates her letter to her father. Letter from the Italian Boito, who writes that Tristan was a revelation to him, which reminds us that R. had intended his Tristan for Italian singers, though naturally not the present ignoramuses. Boito also says that the number of supporters for R. in Italy will continue to grow. Kietz wrote yesterday that this music would make headway in France, like homoeopathy and many other German inventions! In the evening again played two Haydn symphonies as piano duets. Worried because Claire does not write to me.
August 7, 1869	113	A rainy, industrious morning brings Lusch's letter, Cosima's inking, Richard's copying, and news that the Munich household goods are being sold. Both Cosima and Richard feel unwell, yet Haydn duets, Grimm's mythology, and Goethe's Kluger Rechtsanwalt give them literary pleasure. She writes Judith and telegraphs Claire while her heart remains painful.	Saturday, August 7: Lusch writes to her father, I ink in, R. copies; busy, rainy morning. At midday a letter from the cook in Munich: our things are being put up for sale there. Walk with R. He has had a letter from his sister Cäcilie, who wishes to visit him. We are both unwell; my heart is giving me pain. After lunch we again play Haydn symphonies. Read part of the foreword to Grimm's mythology. Also read Goethe's Der kluge Rechtsanwalt, very charmed by it. I discuss it with R.; he says that he has rediscovered something of his Chandala maiden in it. In the evening wrote to Judith and sent off a telegram to Claire.
August 8, 1869	230	Richard's illness leaves Cosima distracted, relieved that Sunday lets the children play without much structure. The Serovs lunch with them, prompting strong discussion of women's emancipation, motherhood, and the sacred role of the mother in contrast to public imitation of men. Claire's silence worries Cosima, and Serov's report of Berlioz maligning Liszt seems almost laughably pointless.	Sunday, August 8: Richard very unwell! I in consequence in a mood of abstraction, glad it is Sunday and the children can just be left to play. Embark on Goethe's Wanderjahre. Serovs for lunch; he a good independent person, she as ugly as the night, interested in women's emancipation, while only yesterday R. and I were expressing our loathing for this so-called up-to-date rubbish. R. says: "The fact that Mill is for it shows that people today have no idea of even the simplest things, that they do not even know what being a mother means. They understand that in the East; there, where women are supposedly in a subordinate position, the mother is held sacred. The father is there to protect mother and child, that is to say, to take care of the external things; woman has nothing to do with the outside world. Of course she has immeasurable influence, but not by voting and trying to turn herself into a man, which she can never do." I find it impossible to understand how a woman with a child of her own can ever even consider doing anything beyond bringing up this child; in this field she is the indispensable ruler. Worried about Claire's failure to reply to my telegram. Serov tells me how badly Berlioz spoke about my father in St. Petersburg. I feel almost like laughing over this baseless and superfluous malignancy.
August 9, 1869	121	Claire writes that she has contacted Hans, easing one anxiety as Richard improves slightly. Cosima reads Goethe, teaches the children with joy, and meets a poor botany student whose lack of means will force him into theology. His situation makes her wish she were rich enough to support individual talent rather than abstract liberal projects.	Monday, August 9: Letter from Claire; she has written to Hans! R. somewhat better. Children's morning. Afterward Wanderjahre. In the afternoon the botanist, a poor student who would like to be a naturalist, but now for lack of means is to become a theologian! His father was forced to join the Sonderbund; he was a ribbon maker, and the powers that be said they would not support him if he did not go over to them. Much joy in teaching the children. If I were rich, I should at once help this student to study natural history. Instead of founding [adjective unreadable] newspapers, these foolish Liberals should pay a little attention to individual needs; but they just go jogging along in their absurd way.
August 10, 1869	75	Cosima is unwell but tends the children while Hermine is confined to bed, then writes Claire and reads Wanderjahre. Richard fetches medicine labeled for 'Mme Wagner,' joking that the apothecary has accomplished what state, church, and society cannot. He continues copying for the vanished, silent King.	Tuesday, August 10: I am unwell, but can see to the children, since Hermine is in bed. Wrote to Claire. Afterward read the Wanderjahre. In the evening R. fetches the medicine prescribed for me; on the bottle is written "For Mme Wagner." You see, says R., what state, church, and society are unable to do, the apothecary puts right. R. at his copying for the King, about whom nothing is heard and who seems literally to have vanished.
August 11, 1869	104	Cosima's hope for the Italian Tristan translation is met by Richard's remark that his pleasures now come from other things. Illness restricts her to maternal duties, while news that the King delegates the Goethe monument unveiling prompts speculation that political forces or their own situation have frightened him. Richard's final concern is only her recovery as he copies steadily.	Wednesday, August 11: This morning, when I told R. that I was looking forward to the Italian translation of Tristan and asked whether he was not, he said, "My pleasures now come from other things." Unwell, I confine myself to my maternal duties. In the evening I read in the newspaper that the King is getting Count Pocci to unveil the Goethe monument he himself commissioned!! Discussion with R. over whether the King was perhaps frightened off by what happened between us. Certainly something is now being hatched out against the King. R.'s last word: I care only about your recovery. R. works assiduously on his copying.
August 12, 1869	89	Cosima is so weak that the doctor marvels she can still walk, and she spends the morning lying down with Goethe while Hermine remains ill. The botany student returns, and by afternoon she is again on her feet. Silence from Munich weighs on her heavily, and Loulou's side pain adds a new alarm.	Thursday, August 12: Very unwell; the doctor is amazed that with the weakness of my pulse I can still walk about. I spend the whole morning lying down, distracting, or rather edifying, myself with the Wanderjahre. The botany student here again. Hermine still ill; in the afternoon I am again on my feet. [A sentence containing an untranslatable word play omitted.] Still nothing from Munich; it weighs like a ton on my heart when I think of it. I was alarmed today when Loulou told me of a pain in her side.
August 13, 1869	362	Letters to Lenbach, news from Brockhaus and Richter, and Richard's copying shape a quiet day shadowed by worsening Munich conditions. Goethe's remarks on theater lead to a discussion of memoirs, Napoleon, courts modeled on Louis XIV, German princes, Rome, Pius IX, and the falsifying nature of article writing. Late telegrams and Richard's thought of Siegfried one day seeing the third act link present labor to future recognition.	Friday, August 13: Four letters: wrote to Franz Lenbach; R. receives news from Hermann Brockhaus and from Richter, who describes the conditions in Munich as ever more horrible. Nothing happened. R. at his copying. In the evening I read to him in astonishment the passage I found in the Wanderjahre concerning drama and theater. "It does not disturb me," says R., who knows it well. We talk about memoirs; R. said, "They can only be of value when they give real facts; Napoleon told lies, it is said." I: "He was a play actor, and that is why I cannot stand him, a hollow person." R.: "When one thinks that our courts are nothing but imitations of the court of Louis XIV, which meant something in France in his day, and now all these little Napoleons can think of is to surround themselves with the same hocus-pocus! No nobler ambitions, in art only what is most vulgar; and for that they spend all their money, yes, even spill blood." "One cannot be angry with the poor German people; they have shed their blood, have gone through thick and thin, but one can be angry with its princes, who have so shamefully let it go to seed." An article in the A.A.Z. "from Rome" interests us very much. All I say is: "Writing articles makes people untruthful; the way the author speaks of Pius IX is entirely different from the way he would speak of him in conversation. He ennobles him, even though he cannot avoid mentioning the worthlessness of his plans and the cruelty of his methods. In the same way you had to idealize Kings Max and Ludwig in your Art and Politics." "You are right," says R., "they are false images; the present time does not belong to us, one should not attempt to describe it." In the late evening telegrams; Marie Muchanoff asking for Semper's address. "How will Siegfried feel when he one day sees the 3rd act and learns that I wrote this scene just as he was being born?" [Placed beside this page is a sheet of musical notation paper written in R.'s hand, containing on two lines the excerpt "Heil dem Tage..."]
August 14, 1869	96	At breakfast Cosima and Richard revisit the torment of their earlier separation, with its longing for letters and misery after news arrived. Rheingold pictures come, the costumes look somewhat better, and Serov's visit brings entertaining conversation. The evening is filled with the happiness of their love, even as Rheingold's Munich performance is set for August 29.	Saturday, August 14: At breakfast we again mentioned the sufferings we went through before we came together. This longing for letters, this avidity for news, and misery after the letter has been read, the telegrams: God, who can ever have any idea of it, unless he has loved so dreadfully? Arrival of the Rheingold pictures; the costumes have turned out somewhat better. In the afternoon Serov, entertaining conversation with him. In the evening overwhelming sense of the felicity of our love. R. maintains he would be nothing without me. O God! Das Rheingold to be performed on the 29th.
August 15, 1869	122	On the Feast of the Assumption, Cosima shows the children Titian's Assumption and spends the day with them, including family lunch and inking. Richard plays the third act for her in the afternoon, stirring emotion and a reflection on the kiss of love as a first intimation of death. Count Bassenheim's Goethe anecdote and a children's dance close the evening.	Sunday, August 15: Feast of the Assumption. Showed the children Titian's Assumpta, then sat with them inking in; family lunch. In the afternoon R. plays me his third act, great emotion. "The kiss of love is the first intimation of death, the cessation of individuality; that is why a person is so terrified by it." In the evening visit from Count Bassenheim, who related to me an anecdote which happened to his father-in-law, Prince Wallerstein: Goethe wished to receive the Order of Saint Hubert, King Ludwig [I] was prepared to give it to him, but on condition that Goethe praised his poems. Goethe was unwilling, and so the King was also unwilling, and the Saint Hubert diamonds remained in the treasury! In the evening children's dance.
August 16, 1869	164	Richard is cheerful, hopeful, and reflective about Liszt, Bach, virtuosity, and his own conjunction of poet and musician. Judith's note suggests a lost letter, and Cosima drives with Richard to the Serovs before reading Grimm to the children. The day is steady, framed by artistic self-understanding and domestic routine.	Monday, August 16: In the morning R. still cheerful and well; he is happy and full of comfort and hope, he tells me. We speak about my father. R. says he first found out through him what Bach is. “One really cannot blame the world for being unwilling to accept that his gift of virtuosity was for him only of secondary importance. He was born to it, and what have time and duration to do with it?” “The main thing is that one should be out of the ordinary. In me the accent lies on the conjunction of poet and musician; as a pure musician I would not be of much significance.” He adds, “All the world gets is the shell of the oyster; what can it possibly know of the joys of conceiving?” In the afternoon a note from Judith, from which I see that a letter has got lost. Drove with R. to the Serovs; in the evening read Grimm’s fairy tales to the children.
August 17, 1869	69	Cosima spends the morning with the children and Goethe while Richard is exhausted by work. Richter arrives in the evening with continued Munich troubles, and Richard insists he must stand by his resignation while Hans is at Kochel. In bed, Cosima remembers Hans's inability to live in the country and worries for his health.	Tuesday, August 17: Morning with children and Wanderjahre. R. exhausted by his work. In the afternoon work with the children. In the evening Richter. Still troubles in Munich. He has to stick by his resignation. Hans is in Kochel. In bed I remember how incapable he is of living in the country, those terrible holidays in Klampenborg, and the bad weather on top of it. If only his health would improve!
August 18, 1869	117	A rehearsal with singers goes on while Cosima sits nearby with the Serovs, overcome by melancholy and heavy thoughts of Hans. Richard ends hoarse and Falstaffian from choral singing, and the day includes Goethe's Wanderjahre and irritation at the Munich theater's plan for a prologue instead of Lohengrin. Richard telegraphs the King asking for Lohengrin or Meistersinger, and the first notebook ends.	Wednesday, August 18: Up early; rehearsal with singers. I with the Serovs in the next room. Overwhelming feelings of great melancholy. Deep awareness that I may no longer look on anything in this world. Heavy thoughts of Hans. R. in the evening in a Falstaffian state, as he says, hoarse from choral singing. Read the Wanderjahre. To the many bright ideas of the Munich theater director belongs the commissioning of a prologue for the reopening of the theater. A prologue for a new stage! For that reason he has turned down the request of many friends for Lohengrin, and instead chooses Jessonda. R. telegraphs the King and asks for Lohengrin or Die Meistersinger. [End of the first notebook of the Diaries.]
August 19, 1869	165	Nietzsche sends Semper's lecture on architectural styles, which Cosima reads with interest and discusses with Richard, renewing regret over their broken contact with Semper. The King's telegram promises Lohengrin if possible and greets the children, while Richard is tired from copying. Hans's comprehensive letter suggests Liszt may have opposed divorce, and Cosima resolves to wait patiently as long as Hans is not tormented.	Thursday, August 19: While I am working with the children, a package arrives from Professor Nietzsche: Semper’s lecture on architectural styles. Read it with great interest, spoke about it to R. at lunch, both of us regretting we were no longer in touch with Semper. “When somebody has a bad conscience, there is no meanness one cannot expect from him.” Mention of the two-faced game played by Semper’s son in Munich. In the evening a telegram from the King: he will, “if possible,” arrange a performance of Lohengrin for his birthday, and he sends greetings to Will and Vorstel. In the evening I read Semper’s pamphlet to R. He is very tired from his copying. After lunch we discussed the present comprehensive letter from Hans. He feels my father must have advised Hans against a divorce. I am willing to bear anything and to await things in patience as long as Hans is not put in torment, but all the same I ask R., too, to keep silent.
August 20, 1869	157	Judith writes enthusiastically, and Cosima asks her to use Rheingold to explain why Richard is staying away from Munich. Richard's sister Avenarius arrives after twenty-one years, prompting his remark that sincerity matters more than love. Herwegh's King Lear preface, Semper's public style, and dislike of fashionable talk about mankind lead Richard to lament that Semper writes instead of building.	Friday, August 20: Letter from Judith, full of enthusiasm. I reply and ask her to use the occasion of Das Rheingold to make known the reasons why R. is staying away from Munich. In the afternoon R.’s sister Frau Avenarius arrives; he has not seen her for 21 years. When I express my pleasure for R.’s sake and ask him whether she has shown him love, he says with a smile, “We don’t need love, we only need sincerity.” In the evening I read Herwegh’s foreword to the translation of King Lear, and R. deplores the facetious tone which is nowadays to be found everywhere, to which even Semper, with all his magnificent thoughts, is obliged to submit under the circumstances, a lecture to a mixed public in Zurich about matters which would require a whole book. R. also does not like talk about Menschtum [“mankind”], and altogether it is a great pity that Semper is now writing instead of building.
August 21, 1869	102	Richard completes his copying while Cosima, worried about Lusch's health, lets her run freely and inks the score. Lunch with the Serovs and the Avenariuses is unpleasant, and an article by Judith Mendes horrifies Cosima and deeply hurts Richard. Nietzsche's evening visit restores some pleasantness, while news arrives of the King's travel and exhibition visit.	Saturday, August 21: R. has completed his copying; I, concerned about Lusch’s health, allow her to run around while I ink in my page of the score. At lunch the Serovs and Herr and Frau Avenarius, neither of the last two very pleasant; he in particular is terribly crude. Serov shows me an article by Mme Mendès which horrifies me. I do not think we shall be able to have much more to do with these people. R. is extremely hurt. In the evening a visit from Professor Nietzsche, very pleasant as always. The King is traveling to Landshut and has been to the exhibition.
August 22, 1869	126	Cosima breakfasts with Nietzsche, takes the children into a flag-decked Lucerne, and hosts a family banquet with the poor student. Music from Siegfried's third act follows, along with confusion that keeps Nietzsche overnight. A searching letter to Countess Krockow about the whole situation costs Cosima her night's rest, while Nietzsche calls the Munich experiences horrifying and Richard writes the King a beautiful poem.	Sunday, August 22: In the morning breakfast with the professor, then with the children into the town, which is hung with flags and bunting for a singing festival. At two, family banquet with the poor student. Afterward music, the third act of Siegfried. Confusion concerning the professor’s departure. He is staying until tomorrow morning. In the evening a very good letter from Countess Krockow. I reply to it during the night, which puts a great strain on me. She wished to know from me in my own words how things stand, and to describe that in detail cost me my night’s rest. When I told Prof. Nietzsche of our experiences in Munich, he said they were truly horrifying. In the morning R. wrote a beautiful poem for the King.
August 23, 1869	161	Worn out from writing, Cosima is revived by Richard, who writes letters and teaches the children while Hermine is sent to Munich on business. Richard's story of Timoleon makes Cosima see another symbol of happiness gnawed by guilt over another's death. A drive with the children, exhaustion, Richard's tender sleep-waking words, and Lenbach's kind letter close the day.	Monday, August 23: Very worn out by the writing in the night, rose mournfully, soon cheered up by R.’s presence. R. writes letters and teaches the children, who are now in my sole charge, since I have sent Hermine to Munich to settle some matters there. At lunch R. talked to me about Timoleon, telling how his brilliant career originated in the death of his brother, in which he was heavily involved; so there again I am presented with a symbol for happiness. Amidst all the honors which accrued to him as the result of a long and glorious life of good deeds, the death of his brother must have been like a worm gnawing his heart. In the afternoon a drive with the children. Returned home very tired. To bed at 8 o’clock; downstairs R. had already fallen asleep. When he awoke he said to me, “I was far, far away, but always with you, in sleeping as in waking.” Nice letter from Lenbach.
August 24, 1869	268	Marie Muchanoff's planned Munich visit and question about seeing Liszt lead Richard to conclude that Liszt may have dissuaded Hans from divorce. Richard and Cosima write Marie with an outline of the situation and Hans's letter, hoping she may influence Liszt, while Count Bassenheim brings unexpected friendly words about Cosima from Prince Georg. Hermine's telegram reports humiliating rejection by Hans's mother, prompting Cosima to write Anna and comfort Hermine.	Tuesday, August 24: Letter from Marie Muchanoff; she is going to Munich, where she will meet my father. She asks whether I would not see him. This question leads to a conversation with R. from which I learn that he has been forced by a newspaper report to the conclusion that my father dissuaded Hans from his resolve to get a divorce from me. R. is now writing to Marie Muchanoff and giving her an outline of the whole situation, in the hope that she will show this to my father and perhaps cause him to reverse his unfortunate attitude. I also write her a few lines and send her Hans’s last letter to me. In the afternoon a visit from Count Bassenheim; while on the Rigi he had seen Prince Georg of Prussia, who had spoken of me a lot. Curious how surprised I am by every friendly word said about me! In the evening, after reading Grimm’s fairy tales to the children, I receive a telegram from Hermine: “Old lady at home, humiliating reception, turned away from the house.” Thus does the good lady avenge herself for the 10 years in which I treated her in such a way that R. was firmly convinced that she did and must love me, and was struck dumb when I once told him, “The woman is just waiting for an opportunity to do me harm.” But that she should treat poor Hermine so badly! I write to Anna, so that she can show my remarks to Hans, who may perhaps be told God knows what by his mother. I comfort Hermine with a few words.
August 25, 1869	243	Cosima's night distress centers less on Frau von Bulow's insult than on Liszt's worsening of her situation. Judith writes in agitation about being excluded from Rheingold rehearsals, and Cosima asks Richard to let Richter handle the theater dispute while she writes Judith and Lenbach. Richard begins instrumenting Act III, Cosima tends lessons and botany, and evening music leads to the thought that sorrow, happiness, and activity are now permanently embodied in Hans, Richard, and the children.	Wednesday, August 25: During the night some distress, not because of the humiliation inflicted on me by Frau von Bülow, but arising from thoughts about my father and my own situation, which he is making so much worse for me. In the morning a nice letter from Judith Mendès; she is beside herself, the theater director will not let her into rehearsals of Das Rheingold. Still the same old game! R. had telegraphed him very curtly; he reads the text to me. I beg him to let Richter deal with the matter, which he does. I then write to Judith and tell her what my father has done to me, since she asks whether she should visit him. Also wrote to Franz Lenbach, who had replied with a simple expression of sympathy to my description of my situation. Meanwhile R. begins on the instrumentation of Act III. After lunch, with the children to Lulu’s piano lesson, then did some botany with them, finally went to meet R. In the evening piano duets, a Mozart symphony and a Beethoven quartet. R. says to me we have time on our side, all we have to do is live long. Recently, when walking to the Lucerne cemetery, I said to him, “I have no wish to die.” I have been supplied by Fate with a sorrow, a happiness, an activity: Hans, Richard, the children. The sorrow cannot pass, any more than the happiness can ever be clouded or the activity cease.
August 26, 1869	315	Nietzsche sends a friendly letter and lecture on Homer, while Cosima spends the day with the children and score inking as Richard orchestrates. Herwegh's letter and Judith's articles arrive from outside, but Richard's restored health and happiness at sunset fill Cosima with gratitude tempered by sorrow for Hans. She rereads Judith more favorably, admires Nietzsche's lecture, and writes to him after Richard reverently remembers the midwife.	Thursday, August 26: Very friendly letter from Professor Nietzsche, who sends us a lecture on Homer. Again children’s day, with inking in of score. R. orchestrating. Nothing from outside, thank God, except some articles by Judith Mendès about the exhibition and a letter from G. Herwegh, which astonishes R. particularly, since he had recently been thinking of giving a sign of life to this poor man who has fallen on hard times. Herwegh is in Munich on account of Das Rheingold (R. says it is only the machinery they are all interested in), and R. had intended to invite him here, had not a word in H.’s letter made an unpleasant impression on him: the word drahtlich [“by wire”]. At the last flush of sunset R. tells me how well and happy he feels, how his health has been restored and his whole being given new strength, and he says it is all my doing. I feel like going down on my knees to the gods in gratitude, and, lest presumption corrupt my soul, I remember the being on whom I had to bring suffering, and in silence from afar I lament with him the grimness of our earthly lot. The happier I am, the more deeply am I aware of the existence of one who is not happy; against this feeling no sensible reasoning, no explanations, not even the consciousness that I could not have done otherwise can help; or, rather, I do not seek such help, but suffer with him at all times. Read J. Mendès’s article again; it is much better than I first thought in my excitement and annoyance at reading about R.’s personality in print. Nietzsche’s lecture, on the other hand, excellent. The midwife came today, and R. said he could never set eyes on her without feeling moved; she was for him a sacred being, since she had stood by me. Wrote to Prof. Nietzsche.
August 27, 1869	307	Dire dreams of persecution lead Richard to warn Cosima against going to Liszt, imagining her enemies capable of convent-like confinement. The children work and travel to Hergiswyl, where they feed goats, while Richard encounters his sister Brockhaus and reflects on kings, Indian thought, birth, and Frederick the Great. Silence from Hermine, Claire, and Hans deepens Cosima's resolve to bury sorrow so life at Tribschen can remain pure.	Friday, August 27: Dire dreams of persecutions. R. comes and says he will on no account let me go to my father; these people were capable of throwing me into a convent like Barbara Ubri (!!!). My father is now going to see Rheingold because he has been officially invited; previously, with Tristan, when we asked him to come and everything still gave grounds for hope, he did not wish to. Children’s day as always: in the morning work, in the afternoon drive with them to Hergiswyl; there fed the goats. R. suddenly meets his sister Frau Brockhaus; her family was on its way to Lucerne and wanted to visit him. He invites them for lunch tomorrow. At lunch R. said to me, “The kiss of love and the procreation of a child is a Kalpa”; then, too: “In the newborn child, which does not remain what it was in the mother’s womb, one can clearly perceive the idea; all states of becoming and being are nothing, the idea originating in the mother’s womb is everything.” As I come to the table, he reads me an Indian proverb: “You can attain the end of the world and the summits of mountains, but the thought of a king has never been attainable, not to a single soul.” I was reading some dates concerning Frederick the Great in the encyclopedia, and there I learned that, when bidden by his father to renounce the throne, he replied, “At once, if my father tells me I am not his true son.” How great, how true to type! I am worried; Hermine is silent, Claire is silent, Hans does not write to his daughter, but I bury it all away, so that life here may remain pure and free, my children well, Richard active and content. I will bear my sorrow in silence to the end of my days.
August 28, 1869	235	A letter from the Munich cook saying Hans has left in despondency overwhelms Cosima with grief and thoughts of death, and she warns her children that no suffering equals the wrong one does. Visitors, including the Brockhaus family and Nietzsche, arrive while she remains inwardly elsewhere. Judith's later letter reassures her that Liszt loves her and Hans is acting to expedite matters, but telegrams about the disastrous Rheingold rehearsal plunge Richard into urgent action with the King.	Saturday, August 28: After I had written this, Richard [C. W. wrote “Hans” by mistake] brought me a letter from the cook in Munich, saying that Hans had gone away, despondent and sad, without saying where. Terrible grief overcomes me, or, rather, bursts forth. I sob, completely possessed by the thought that my true duty would be to die. I remember being told by the botanist that a plant (spurge) would kill a person if he put its poison in an open wound. Continual brooding: oh, children, my children, remember your mother’s words, no suffering is so hard to bear as the wrong we do; remember these words, wrought from pain in the most painful of hours! Sobbed the whole morning, uncontrollably. R. very concerned. At midday the Brockhaus family and Prof. Nietzsche, all very kind. I elsewhere. In the afternoon a letter from Judith; she tells me that my father wishes to settle my affairs for me, that he loves me, that Hans has gone away to expedite the matter. The letter did me infinite good; I began to breathe again. Then came telegram after telegram and letter after letter, all reporting that the dress rehearsal of Das Rheingold had been appalling, ridiculous to the highest degree, and that stupidity had joined hands with malice to ruin everything. R. telegraphs the King and asks for a postponement. Late in the evening I write to Judith and Hermine (who has also written).
August 29, 1869	112	Richard is ill with grief over Rheingold as telegrams multiply: the King sends only thanks, Richter refuses to conduct, and Loen seeks permission for Lassen to take over. Richard supports Richter, demands corrections through Dufflipp, and rejects Loen's proposal, only to learn Richter has been suspended. Nietzsche's presence is pleasant, but the day is gloomy and Cosima grieves that she has had little time for the children.	Sunday, August 29: R. ill with grief about Das Rheingold. The telegrams continue: (1) The King sends thanks for his birthday gift, otherwise nothing! (2) Richter announces his decision not to conduct. (3) Loën, the Weimar theater director, now in Munich, asks whether his conductor Lassen may take over; Perfall is demanding it. R. telegraphs a bravo to Richter, to Düfflipp a demand to put right all the deficiencies, to Loën saying no. In the evening news from Richter: he has really been suspended! In between all this Prof. Nietzsche, always pleasant. Gloomy day; what will come of this affair? The King’s behavior puzzling. Very little with the children today and yesterday, which grieves me.
August 30, 1869	72	Richard writes the King explaining the Rheingold situation and proposes going to Munich to make a good performance possible by Sunday. Dufflipp's telegram leads him to decide on the journey, which fills Cosima with anxiety. Richard insists he will return well, arguing that past illness after Meistersinger came from separation rather than vexation.	Monday, August 30: R. writes to the King, explains the position to him, and suggests that he go to Munich to make possible a good performance by Sunday. In the afternoon telegram from Düfflipp (see the documents). Richard decides to make the journey. Great anxiety over this decision; R. says he knows he will return home fit; the reason why he was so ill following Die Meistersinger was not his vexation, but our separation.
August 31, 1869	110	On the morning of Richard's departure, Cosima still gives Loulou a piano lesson, which he teasingly treats as proof that youthful love is being displaced. Hallwachs's hopeless report and the possibility of a break with the King weigh on them until the King's telegram postpones the performance to Sunday. Cosima sees Richard off with melancholy, writes Claire, reads Goethe, and writes to Richard.	Tuesday, August 31: R. teases me because, even though this is the morning of his departure, I still give Loulou a piano lesson: “In youth love goes under!” In the morning visit from his sister Frau Avenarius; at midday letter from the stage director Hallwachs, giving a hopeless account of it all. We consider the possibility of a break with the King if he insists on the performance on Thursday. At 4 o’clock telegram from the King: he expects the performance on Sunday. Seeing R. off, great melancholy, but pleased that the King had listened to him. Journey home alone; R. has gone. I write to Claire, then Wanderjahre, finally wrote to R.
No diary entries found.