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 September 1869 (30 total)

Date	Word Count	Subject	Content
September 1, 1869	63	With Richard away, Cosima takes breakfast and the day with the children. A telegram reports that Richard is well but the situation remains uncertain, and she writes to him in the evening. She also warns Loulou strongly against dreams of the stage and singing by describing the profession in harsh terms.	Wednesday, September 1: Breakfast and all else with the children; in the afternoon telegram from R., he is well, the situation, however, uncertain. I write to him in the evening. During the day just a serious word to Loulou; since she tells me she would like to go on the stage and sing, I describe to her in glaring colors how awful this profession is.
September 2, 1869	148	An industrious morning with the children, the botanist, and Hermann Brockhaus is transformed by Hermine's report that Liszt remains well disposed and Richard's surprise announcement that he will return that evening. Cosima fetches him with the four children and two dogs, and he reports that Rheingold is impossible under current staging and political conditions. Judith's warning against Marie Muchanoff makes Cosima regret past confidences, while Richard is simply glad to be home.	Thursday, September 2: Industrious morning with the children, the botanist here. At midday visit from Professor Hermann Brockhaus, a nice little chat. Letters from Hermine and the head of the Marienanstalt. Hermine has seen my father, who is still well disposed toward me. At 4 o’clock surprise and joy: R. announces his return this evening. With the 4 children and the 2 dogs to fetch him. Rheingold impossible; the return of Richter to the conductor’s desk would be the signal for the resumption of the old witch hunt against us and the King; and besides this, the staging of the work is so abominable that the machinist is demanding three months to put it right. But the whole world is said to be in Munich. Judith sends me a warning against Marie Muchanoff; I regret the confidences I made to the latter. R. well, he is only too glad to be here again!
September 3, 1869	145	Richard telegraphs the King to cancel Rheingold so the decision will come from him, and news arrives that Betz has left Munich rather than sing Wotan under the circumstances. Hermine reports that Hans is in Berlin, while Judith's warning about Marie Muchanoff troubles Cosima because Marie holds Hans's letter. A town outing and evening talk of Bernhard von Weimar and Gustavus Adolphus unfold beneath Cosima's apprehension of disaster.	Friday, September 3: R. telegraphs the King, begs him to cancel the performance, so that the decision will at least come from him. News that the singer Betz has left Munich so as not to have to sing Wotan in such circumstances. R. writes to Düfflipp. What will come of all this? Letter from Hermine; my father has told her Hans is in Berlin; I reply to her. Calmly as I accept all this news, my heart is nevertheless heavy! The warning against Marie Muchanoff also makes me anxious; she has Hans’s letter to me. I sent it to her for my father’s sake, but is she worthy of this confidence? To town with the children and R.; in the evening conversation about Bernhard von Weimar and Gustavus Adolphus, whom R. much reveres. My heart is apprehensive, as in the face of a great disaster. “Woe on our mortal lot!”
September 4, 1869	190	Further news from Munich reveals absurd casting and indifference after Betz's departure, while Albert Wagner writes only to recommend a singer. Hermine sends more about Liszt, and Richard asks Marie Muchanoff to return Hans's letter to ease Cosima's fears. Siegfried's eye prompts reflections on blindness, truth, temptation, and deception before melancholy and Beethoven duets close the day.	Saturday, September 4: In the morning letter from Herr Schäfer (friend of Richter’s with whom R. stayed): Betz, the singer of Wotan, has gone, does not wish to sing in these circumstances; that does not really worry the theater director, he gives the bass singer’s role to the tenor Vogl, some musician or other will conduct, and so everything is all right. At the same time R. received a letter from his brother Albert Wagner, who at the end of his life can write nothing beyond a recommendation of a female singer! Letter from Hermine (a few more things about my father). To put my fears at rest, R. writes to Marie Muchanoff and asks for the return of Hans’s letter. After lunch inspection of Siegfried’s eye trouble makes me consider what a completely different fate is conferred in a moral sense on a person born blind, how much more purely he must be able to perceive truth through not seeing reality! All forms of temptation and deception must remain strangers to him. Great melancholy in the evening; life and the world horrify me ever more and more. Played duets with R., a Beethoven quartet.
September 5, 1869	80	Cosima sends the older children to church and spends the morning with the younger ones while Richard writes letters and orchestrates. A family lunch and trip to the Alpine wildlife museum make a quiet domestic Sunday. The only outside note is a false press account claiming intrigue and Wagner's unpopularity caused Rheingold's nonperformance.	Sunday, September 5: Sent the two elder children to church, spent the morning with the two young ones. R. writes to Judith and to Schäfer and orchestrates. Family lunch, and afterward drive to the Alpine wildlife museum. In the evening read Don Quixote. Nothing from outside; only in the A.A.Z. reports that an intrigue against Perfall is the reason for the nonperformance of Das Rheingold, and that because of all the feeling against him in Munich, R. had to leave the city!
September 6, 1869	270	On Siegfried's three-month day, Hallwachs writes that the divorce petition has been filed and Cosima may be divorced within two months, creating a solemn mood. Marie Muchanoff returns Hans's letter but announces a visit, reviving embarrassment and mistrust, while Liszt's reluctance to make a stir annoys both Cosima and Richard. A thunderstorm, Richard's tears over the King, piano duets, and anxiety over money after buying Siegfried a carriage leave the evening strained.	Monday, September 6: Siegfried three months old today! Letter from Dr. Hallwachs on Hans's behalf; the petition has been filed, within two months I shall probably be divorced. Mood of solemnity. Botanist and children. Then a right worthy woman from Appenzell in her gay national costume sells me bits of embroidery, the nut-brown maid! After lunch letter from Marie Muchanoff; she at last returns the letter from Hans and is coming here the day after next. Feeling of embarrassment: we have nothing to do with this world, however friendly it may be, and the confidence I placed in her weighs doubly on my heart. She also says my father was touched that I wanted to see him, "but does not wish to create a stir just now." As if I had either demanded or desired such a thing! R. also annoyed by this. We drive to the Bassenheims' to report her coming. Terrible thunderstorm. R. returns home alone, I play and read with the children. When I come down, I look for R.; he had fallen asleep after bitterly weeping, weeping about the King! We hear nothing about Das Rheingold. How can I console him? To weep with him is all I can do! Our mood is melancholy; we play piano duets, that restores our spirits. Only at the conclusion of the evening R.'s purchase of a baby carriage for Siegfried makes me concerned over our future existence, since R. is quite unable to save money. My concern annoys him, and he is right: I should have kept silent, for it is only with words of love that one helps, not with anxious talk.
September 7, 1869	169	Judith's affectionate letter and Peter Cornelius's plan to leave the Munich music school cheer Cosima and Richard, who writes Dufflipp about the full situation. A beautiful autumn day brings calm, but Richard's health suffers from painful memories and he dreads Marie Muchanoff's visit. Siegfried's carriage excites the children, and the quiet evening turns to memories of Richard's uncle and anger at the world's wretchedness.	Tuesday, September 7: Letter from Judith, very nice and affectionate; reply to her at once. For R. a letter from Peter Cornelius, who also now intends to leave the music school; that pleases us, for we had assumed that P. C. was not at all interested in our sufferings. Richard takes the opportunity of writing to Düfflipp and describing the whole situation to him. Beautiful autumn day which fills me with tranquillity, but unfortunately R. is not well; the letter and above all the remembrance of all our experiences are downright destroying him. He also finds Marie Muchanoff's visit very distasteful. He goes out for a walk, I remain at home with the children. Siegfried's new carriage arrives, great excitement among the children. Go to meet R.; he is unwell. Very quiet evening; he tells me about his uncle Adolph, whose memory is very precious to him. At supper he was overcome with great ill humor about the wretchedness of the world! If only he could get back to his work tomorrow!
September 8, 1869	62	Lovely weather and lively children make for a quieter day, with Countess Bassenheim visiting and Richard writing to Cornelius, Schure, and Richter. Marie Muchanoff does not arrive, which leaves the household undisturbed. Cosima alternates between hope for Hans's future, melancholy, and delight in Siegfried.	Wednesday, September 8: Lovely summer days still, the children lively out of doors. Visit from Countess Bassenheim in the morning; R. somewhat better, writes letters to P[eter] C[ornelius], Schuré, Richter. Nothing at all happened today; Marie Muchanoff did not come. At times feelings of hope that Hans's life might take a turn for the better, but then once more melancholy thoughts. Delight in Siegfried.
September 9, 1869	145	A botanical walk and score inking beside Siegfried's cradle give Cosima two versions of the child before her: living infant and musical namesake. She and Richard talk in the garden about what to wish for him, while letters report Rheingold's postponement and Marie Muchanoff's impending visit. Richard returns cheerful because Cosima is at home, while Napoleon III's illness suggests broader political decline.	Thursday, September 9: Botanical walk, then inked in score beside the cradle, Siegfried in two versions before me. After lunch in the garden with R. and "Fidi" [Siegfried]; talked and talked about the child. What should we wish for him: earnestness, cheerfulness, a poetic spirit? R. tells me much about Bernhard von Weimar's heroism. Letter to R. from Judith: Rheingold postponed, may later be performed for the King alone. Went for a drive with the children, encountered Countess Bassenheim at the railroad station, waiting in vain for Marie M. In the end a letter from Marie saying she is coming tomorrow to discuss important matters with me. Stupid, tiresome interference! Fine evening. R. comes home cheerful; he says he always returns happy and gay now that he knows I am in the house. Emperor Louis Napoleon appears to be very ill; R. thinks he is on his deathbed.
September 10, 1869	308	Newspaper reports that Rheingold will be performed within a fortnight devastate Richard, not only because of the work but because of the King's behavior. Nietzsche reports infamous press rumors, and Richter arrives with details of changed roles, reduced orchestra, bribed papers, and incompetent conducting. Cosima regrets a day without lessons, while the couple recognizes that Richard's works belong to the King and he has almost no power to stop their misuse.	Friday, September 10: After parting from me yesterday evening in a very cheerful mood, R. comes up to my room in the morning looking most despondent; it is reported in the newspaper that Das Rheingold is now really to be performed within the next fortnight. When we had read in the newspapers that R. had been put off ad calendas Graecas, we had breathed again, thinking the King had come to his senses at last, and now it is to be done after all! Grief over the King's behavior, rather than the sacrifice of his work, is making R. quite ill. I draft a letter to the King, but R. does not wish it to be sent; he feels he has already said enough. Mood of great sadness. Letter from Professor Nietzsche, who reports that all newspapers are full of infamous accounts, talking of a complete break between W. and the King, etc. He asks for news, which I then give him. Late in the afternoon Richter arrives. Das Rheingold is to be done in a fortnight, with all the roles changed; the singer R. rehearsed for Loge is to sing Mime, the orchestra has been reduced, etc., etc. The theater director is bribing newspapers on all sides, and now everyone is happily spreading lies. The members of the orchestra are much put out by all this and by the fact that they are to be directed by the most incapable of all conductors. But the wretches are within their rights. In the evening I am vexed by a day spent without any children's lessons. We discuss with R. the fact that he can only be silent, that his works belong to the King, and if the latter wishes to use them as mere toys, R. can do nothing to stop him, and there is absolutely nowhere one can look for support.
September 11, 1869	118	Richard drafts a letter to the conductor despite the previous decision to remain silent, and although it horrifies Cosima, she sees that silence is gnawing at him. The day becomes crowded with Marie Muchanoff, Fraulein Holmes, the Brockhaus family, and others, disrupting Tribschen's usual life. News about Hans and a tender letter from Countess Krockow touch Cosima painfully amid the social bustle.	Saturday, September 11: Contrary to his decision of yesterday, R. produces in the morning a letter to the conductor that horrifies me; I should have preferred him not to send it, but it does him good, for bearing things in silence gnaws at his heart. Worked with the children early in the morning, but then a gathering at Tribschen of Marie Muchanoff, Fräulein Holmes, poetess, composer, etc., and others besides. The former pains me with various things she tells me about Hans. At midday a very affectionate letter from Countess Krockow, which also affects me, since it concerns my fate. In the afternoon the Brockhaus family, later the Holmeses, father and daughter, and thus till late in the night. Very un-Tribschen-like!
September 12, 1869	179	Claire forwards Dufflipp's familiar warnings not to involve the King, while Richard writes yet another practical proposal for Rheingold and Cosima drafts a factual account with Richter. Marie Muchanoff and Countess Bassenheim interrupt, and a shameful Augsburg article attacks their affairs and persons. Richard's peace, spirits, and health suffer badly, though the children briefly restore laughter with their bedtime game of dreams.	Sunday, September 12: Letter from Claire, with it letter from Düfflipp, nothing really but the same old refrain: the King should not be dragged into it, etc., etc. Richard writes, making another proposal: Eberle as conductor and singers, etc., etc. Meanwhile, together with Richter, I draft a factual account of the situation. I am interrupted by Marie Muchanoff and Countess Bassenheim. Lively conversation, but no pleasure in it. R. is ill. Family lunch, rather quiet. With regard to the French, R. says jokingly, "We shall have to do it like Bernhard von Weimar: promote the German cause with French financial help." After lunch the A.A.Z., with a shameful article about our affairs and ourselves personally. The poor wretches! But it is so sad that R. has been utterly deprived both of his beautiful peace and his spirits, and that his health is badly affected. Much discussion of our sad dilemma. Really, how wretched these people are! Saying good night to the children, a lot of fun; they play "dreams," and Boni is especially comical. When shall we return to our Tribschen peace?
September 13, 1869	190	Richard decides to answer the Augsburg article and drafts a strong reply while Cosima botanizes with the children. Visits from Fraulein Holmes and the Mendes couple fill the day, and Catulle reports challenging a hostile journalist over an insult to Judith. Richard is too tired for more than greetings, but tea alone with Cosima leaves them glad he has written, and Hermine returns.	Monday, September 13: R. comes up and says he has it in mind to reply to the article in yesterday's A.A.Z., and in fact he drafts out his reply in the morning, while I botanize with the children and work. Before lunch visit Fräulein Holmes; on my return R. reads me his fine piece. Afterward visit from Fräulein Holmes, later arrival of the Mendèses! Much pleasure again in Judith. Catulle tells me that in consequence of an article by Herr Schelle in the Neue Freie Presse, in which his wife is mentioned in an unbecoming way, he wrote this gentleman a letter in which he addressed him as a cowardly and ill-bred rascal and at the same time mentioned where he was to be found. I tell him that this choice gentleman will certainly not present himself. A spider has just run across my book, "bringing delight at night"; may it delight poor Hans! R. is so tired that he can do no more than quickly greet all these good people. We then drink our tea together, just he and I; we are glad that he has written this article. Hermine has returned.
September 14, 1869	35	Richter leaves for Paris, and Richard visits Marie Muchanoff and the Mendes couple. The evening brings the Mendeses and Holmeses to Tribschen, with Judith still dear to Cosima despite the general disruption. Siegfried's nurse Babli leaves, adding another household change.	Tuesday, September 14: Richter has left for Paris. R. goes to visit Marie Muchanoff and the Mendèses. In the evening the Mendèses and the Holmeses. Judith still very dear to me. Babli [Siegfried's nurse] has left.
September 15, 1869	71	Cosima tends Siegfried through the night with pleasure and worry, aided by fine weather. Marie Muchanoff visits pleasantly and reports that people blame Cosima for the Jewish pamphlet, while Richard is concerned over Fritz's badly grazed leg. The Mendeses return in the evening, and Loldi's remark to Hermine reveals how much she felt the absence.	Wednesday, September 15: Looked after Siegfried during the night with pleasure and solicitude. The fine weather is a help to the nursing. Long visit from Marie Muchanoff, thoroughly pleasant. She tells me that people blame the Jewish pamphlet on me, etc. Nice people! At lunch R. tells me with great concern that our Fritz has grazed his leg terribly. In the evening the Mendeses again. Loldi to Hermine: “I was poor when you were away.”
September 16, 1869	112	Cosima continues caring for Siegfried as news arrives of Lohengrin in Bologna and Italian publicity. A note in the Augsburg paper suggesting Wagner's reply may be too vehement looks like an attempt to suppress it, leaving Richard downcast and weaponless. Schott, Marie Muchanoff, the Parzival draft, the Mendeses, uneasy conversation, and the third act of Siegfried fill the rest of the day.	Thursday, September 16: Still looking after Siegfried. Yesterday a letter came from Italy: Lohengrin is to be performed in Bologna, and an Italian newspaper wants to start doing publicity there. At midday R. reads me a note in the A.A.Z., which states that R.’s reply is so vehement that they hesitate to print it. We immediately guess that this is aimed at getting an order from the King to suppress the article. Great annoyance. What to do? Not a single weapon in our hands. R. very downcast. Visit from Schott, his publisher, then M. Muchanoff; I read her the Parsifal draft. In the evening the Mendeses. Uneasy conversation, but afterward the third act of Siegfried.
September 17, 1869	73	A telegram announces that Richard's article has appeared after all, and it looks splendid. Marie Muchanoff makes a kind farewell visit, while the Mendeses and Schotts stay late and play charades in a cheerful gathering. Cosima feels the children are like heralds of peace and that the article has spoken the last necessary word to the outside world.	Friday, September 17: A good day! In the morning a telegram that announces that the article has been printed after all. It looks splendid. Farewell visit to Marie Muchanoff; she is kind and friendly. In the afternoon the Mendeses and Schotts, till late in the evening; they play charades. A friendly, cheerful gathering, my children like heralds of peace, R. in good spirits. With the article the last word has been spoken to the outside world.
September 18, 1869	140	Cosima is tired from night care for Siegfried and irritated by a foolish statement drafted for Richter, while Richard remains occupied with Bernhard von Weimar. Nietzsche visits in the evening and reports lurid newspaper claims linking Rheingold, Catholic plots, Muchanoff, and the Tuileries. The torrent of nonsense seems designed to obscure the Munich theater's incompetence.	Saturday, September 18: Tired from looking after Siegfried through the night. Letter from a Herr Schäfer, who has drafted a very stupid statement for Richter. Unfortunately one’s friends are rarely of much help. I write to Claire and Rothschild. R. still busy with Bernhard von Weimar. In the evening visit from Professor Nietzsche, who tells me of the most licentious things in the newspapers. Among much else it is asserted that the performance of Das Rheingold is connected with a plot whose strings can be sought in the Tuileries. W. is said to have made an alliance with the Catholic party; the proof: Frau von Muchanoff, whose daughter is a radical supporter of the Catholics, and so on. All this rubbish is screamed across the world in order to prevent people’s recognizing the incompetence of the theater management with regard to Das Rheingold.
September 19, 1869	142	Breakfast with Nietzsche turns tense when Richard attacks his oath to avoid meat as moralistic arrogance unsuited to real work and compromise. The professor admits Richard's point but keeps to abstinence, which angers him further. Cosima plays lotto and dominoes with the children and goes early to bed amid outside offers from people who misunderstand Wagner's aims.	Sunday, September 19: Coffee with Prof. Nietzsche; unfortunately he vexes R. very much with an oath he has sworn not to eat meat, but only vegetables. R. considers this nonsense, arrogance as well, and when the Prof. says it is morally important not to eat animals, etc., R. replies that our whole existence is a compromise, which we can only expiate by producing some good. One cannot do that just by milk; better, then, to become an ascetic. To do good in our climate we need good nourishment, and so on. Since the Prof. admits that Richard is right, yet nevertheless sticks to his abstinence, R. becomes angry. In the afternoon played with the children, lotto and dominoes. Very early to bed, being very tired. From outside all kinds of nonsense, conductors and theater directors offering their services. Nobody can really grasp what we are after.
September 20, 1869	309	A dream of Hans's death darkens Cosima's Fidi night, while Richard recounts a tender dream transformed by Siegfried's cooing and the cock's crow. The botanist receives Goethe with his fee, and Herbeck visits about the Vienna Meistersinger, prompting Richard to explain how opposing acts of malice led to his calm reply being printed. Press statements and local articles show the continuing public absorption in Rheingold, and Cosima writes Countess Krockow.	Monday, September 20: Still Fidi-night and Fidi-morning. Dreamed that Hans had died, great melancholy. Yesterday R. told me a delightful dream he had had: he was walking with me across a bridge and advised me to go slowly, but I was careless and fell into the water, and yet I only got wet, which made R. say to himself, I shall always take shoes and stockings with me. Then he suddenly heard the Siegfried theme, slightly varied, on a child’s trumpet, and he was pleased that I had taught it to Siegfried. Then he woke up, and it was the soft cooing of the baby at the first crowing of Giolnir, that is what we call our tiny cock, which had brought it all about. The botanist this morning; I gave him a copy of Goethe’s Dichtung und Wahrheit along with his fee. In the A.A.Z. two very ridiculous statements by Baron Perfall and Herr Julius Grosse, author of that recent choice article. In the afternoon visit from Herbeck, the conductor, concerning Die Meistersinger, which is shortly to be performed in Vienna. He asks R. whether something was cut in his reply to the A.A.Z., for he could not otherwise understand the newspaper’s preliminary remark about it. R. tells him that two acts of malice had here canceled each other out: when the editors saw the calmness of his reply, they had hoped for an order not to print the article; those in the Cabinet, on the other hand, had been glad that R. had allowed himself to be provoked, and had ordered it to be printed. In such ways is justice sometimes furthered. The extent to which people are interested in the Rheingold affair is demonstrated by the fact that the Luzerner publishes two articles about it: the first, to which the paper gives editorial support, is disgraceful, the second tolerable. Wrote to Countess Krockow.
September 21, 1869	121	Cosima and Richard argue over whether he should conceal painful things from her, with she insisting on knowing all. Hallwachs reports she will soon be summoned to Berlin, and Siegfried's temporary refusal of the bottle causes worry before calm returns. A day with the children, a cheerful Cornelius letter, Lenbach's note, and early rest follow the bad weather.	Tuesday, September 21: In the morning argument with R. about the one point on which our opinions still differ; he feels the urge to spare me many things by concealing them; I am firmly in favor of being told all things, good and bad. Report from the stage director Hallwachs that I am soon to be summoned to Berlin. Worry about Siegfried, who at first would not take his bottle, but calm soon restored. The whole day from early till late with the children; the weather is bad. Cheerful letter from Peter Cornelius; it seems that R.’s statement has after all been of great benefit to all the weaklings. Letter to me from Lenbach. Early to bed, to make up a little for the Siegfried nights.
September 22, 1869	60	Richard comes to Cosima in the night and softly says she is everything to him, leaving her unsure whether she dreamed it. A dull, cold day is spent working with the children and taking Loulou to her piano lesson, including a warming visit to Countess Bassenheim. The evening is clouded by Richard's renewed illness.	Wednesday, September 22: In the night R. came to me, sat down beside me, and softly said, “You are everything to me.” I thought I was dreaming. Dull, cold day, work with the children. In the afternoon Loulou’s piano lesson, in connection with which a visit to Countess Bassenheim, whom I like more and more each time. In the evening R. unfortunately unwell.
September 23, 1869	119	News that Semper's Dresden theater has burned makes Cosima think of his unlucky genius, while telegrams confirm Rheingold has been performed in Munich. Richard says the event leaves him inwardly unscathed unless disharmony with Cosima shakes him, but her melancholy is intensified by unpacking Munich belongings. Claire's report that Cosima's mother is again insane and a friendly Judith letter close the sorrowful day.	Thursday, September 23: Semper’s theater in Dresden completely burned down. This made me think of Semper’s unlucky star. His great genius virtually unemployed, his works destroyed! Following this news we receive two telegrams reporting the performance of Das Rheingold in Munich. So there it is: it is always the wicked who triumph. My only consolation is R.’s words: “I have the feeling that none of it really affects me, inside I remain unscathed; only when I am not in complete harmony with you does the ground tremble beneath me.” My melancholy impressions are increased by the unpacking of my Munich things. I shall remain sad to the end! In the evening a letter from Claire: Maman has again become insane! Friendly letter from Judith.
September 24, 1869	199	The Augsburg paper reports a respectable success for Rheingold while Cosima sees the work as sacrificed to save the theater staff's honor. Father Hyacinth's protest against Rome, Porges's fine letter, furniture arranging, autumn mountains, and news of an unknown Nohl biography fill the day. Evening Beethoven and shared weeping with Richard give way to Cosima's continued bitter tears.	Friday, September 24: The A.A.Z. reports a succès d’estime for Das Rheingold; the work is quite happily sacrificed, but the honor of the machinists, costume designer, director, etc., is saved, on paper, at any rate. I said to R. that Semper’s theater had gone up in flames in indignation. Striking sign of the way things are going in the world: Father Hyacinth, long persecuted by the Jesuits, has issued a protest against the whole Roman hierarchy. Very moving and significant. R. says the Pope is in the hands of the Jesuits, because they bring in the money. Antonelli cannot raise money and for that reason no longer has much say in things. Fine letter from Heinrich Porges about Das Rheingold. Spent the whole day arranging furniture. Great tiredness. Fine autumn day, the mountains glisten with snow. Wrote to Claire and Judith. In the evening played a Beethoven quartet. When R. today visited his bookseller, the latter said to him, “You must certainly have already received your biography from Nohl; I sold out my copies, four, at once.” We knew nothing about it. In the evening great melancholy about life, we weep gently together, and, when he is gone, I have to continue weeping bitterly.
September 25, 1869	75	Cosima finishes her letter to Judith in brilliant sunshine, and Richard laughs that Perfall has been confirmed as theater director, proof of how the world works. She takes Lusch to her piano lesson and buys birthday things for her. In the evening Prince Georg of Prussia visits and is introduced to Richard.	Saturday, September 25: Finished my letter to Judith in the early morning in brilliant sunshine. R. comes and says, laughing, “Perfall has now been confirmed as theater director!” Such is the way of the world; fortunate is he who no longer has anything to do with it. After lunch, with Lusch to her piano lesson, and then made purchases for her birthday. In the evening a visit from Prince Georg of Prussia, to whom I present R.
September 26, 1869	186	A lovely day begins with Richard and Cosima watching the sun's star dance on the lake and continues with letters about Rheingold and a possible exemplary performance elsewhere. Richard completes another score page, recalls seeing Cosima as heaven's blue during loneliness, and enjoys Kladderadatsch's decent satire on Munich. The evening closes with a Beethoven quartet.	Sunday, September 26: Lovely day; with Richard to the star dance, that is what we call the play of the sun on the lake. Wrote to Marie M., from whom I yesterday received a report of the Rheingold performance in Munich! In the afternoon a letter from the producer Hallwachs, who has been directed by Darmstadt to ask R. whether he would allow Das Rheingold to be performed elsewhere, and under what conditions. R. intends to authorize this, to restore the honor of his work, which was mutilated in Munich, if the performance is a truly exemplary one. Fine sunny afternoon in the garden. R. looked up with delight into the tree and told me that in his loneliness he had often looked up at it and always seen me as the blue of Heaven. In the morning, by summoning up all his energies, he managed to complete another page of his score. In the evening he brings me a copy of Kladderadatsch; it is the only paper which has depicted the events in Munich in a decently humorous manner (“Adonai’s Revenge against Wotan”). In the evening a quartet (Beethoven).
September 27, 1869	177	Autumn beauty lets Cosima work with the children in the garden while Richard writes about Rheingold and Rienzi. News from Munich, Peter Cornelius's daughter's birth, and discussion of whether Richard should stop taking the King's allowance raise grave questions about honor, work, and survival. On Cosima's name day, Richard gives flowers and Liszt sends a telegram, but she can only keep silent.	Monday, September 27: Lovely day, finest blessings of autumn; I can work with the children in the garden. R. writes to Darmstadt and Kassel about Rheingold. In the morning a visit from Prince Georg; very well meaning, but scant! In the evening more about Das Rheingold in the newspaper, that it is a lavishly decorated, boring work! Letter from Peter Cornelius, birth of his daughter, and great depression over the situation in Munich. In the evening a long conversation with R. about whether, without saying a word, he should stop drawing his allowance, or think only of the completion of the Nibelungen and give up the fight. I tell him to do what best accords with his inner feelings, with no thought for the possible consequences. Gnawing worry for R.; is he now to sacrifice all his works in this way? Deep melancholy; he says if I were not there it would be the end of him! It was my name day today; he gave me flowers, and my father also sent a telegram from Rome. I can only keep silent.
September 28, 1869	89	With no outside news, Richard drafts and discards a letter to Dufflipp while the question of action or silence persists. Cosima inks the score, works with the children, and drives with them before Richard returns distressed by seeing an animal tormented. Childish plays by Prince Georg and Beethoven quartets frame a day whose delight is shadowed by human ugliness.	Tuesday, September 28: Nothing from outside. R. drafts a letter to Dürffl., which he then discards. Always the question, to be or not to be. I ink in the score and work with the children. In the afternoon go for a drive with them. R. returns home upset; he has again seen an animal being tormented, which angers and distresses him. “The worst, and in some respects the ugliest, animal of all is the human being.” We dip a little into Prince Georg’s plays; very childish stuff. Beethoven quartets, indescribable delight!
September 29, 1869	274	Nohl's biography of Richard arrives and is dismissed as trivial, while Cosima writes Nietzsche and works with the children. A murder case leads Richard to argue for a solemn, socially acknowledged death penalty rather than casual punishment. Later, Nietzsche sends evidence of private Wagner correspondence printed in a newspaper, and Cosima secretly asks him to disavow it publicly without troubling Richard.	Wednesday, September 29: Received Nohl’s biography of R.! Nothing but trivialities. R. writes during the morning to P. Cornelius, I to Prof. Nietzsche about the portrait of Uncle Adolph. Occupied with the children as always. At lunch, in connection with a frightful murder case, a man has killed a whole family of eight persons, R. speaks of the need for the death penalty. But it must be carried out in an entirely different way, he says, “not with that certain coy elegance.” All the shops in the town should be closed, the public buildings draped in black, the judge in charge should accompany the criminal to the scaffold, the execution be in private; but the world must be reminded that a terrible fate has befallen it when one of its members has to be deprived of his life. People who are against the death penalty have no idea of the state of things, do not know what the world really consists of. Afternoon in the garden; R. goes for a walk, I practice the quartet. In the evening he brings me a letter from Prof. Nietzsche. The latter sends me a newspaper in which are printed quotations from R.’s correspondence with a “very dear” friend. Who this last is, is not stated, and I cannot guess. But this fresh piece of shamelessness horrifies me. In the evening I write to Prof. N., asking him to make known by means of an advertisement that R. knows nothing of this piece of impertinence. I say nothing to R. about it. Yesterday when he came home he called me his delight, and said I had no idea how happy he was.
September 30, 1869	147	Cosima falls asleep thinking of all she owes Richard, then spends the day on botany, children, and score work while he appears to sketch Götterdämmerung. Kladderadatsch's vulgar reference to her shocks both of them and makes Richard condemn journalism's corruption. Beethoven and dark thoughts of Hans close a day in which she wonders whether people would still smear her if they knew her suffering.	Thursday, September 30: In the night, before I dropped off to sleep, there came into my mind all my love for R. and what I owe to him. In the morning botany, then other work with the children. R. appears to be sketching out Götterdämmerung. In the afternoon R. startles me by informing me that Kladderadatsch has now referred to me, too, and dealt with me in a vulgarly malicious way (“Cosima fan tutte”). I had always maintained to him that Kl. would pass over things in silence, since Dohm was a decent man. R. says I can now see how impossible it is for a person to remain decent when he happens to be a journalist. In the evening a quartet. On going to bed, very dismal thoughts about Hans, deep melancholy. If people knew how I felt, would they have the heart to drag me through the mud?
No diary entries found.