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 January 1873 (28 total)

Date	Word Count	Subject	Content
January 1, 1873	386	The entry records a tense New Year’s day marked by routine correspondence, financial uncertainty, and a sense that public life is working against them. Amid gloom, there are brief compensations in reading Nietzsche, Aristophanes, and a conjurer’s performance, but the overall mood remains dispirited. The author and R. are still imagining concerts, readings, and future ventures, even as practical troubles press in. The day closes with an impression that opera transforms laborious reality into something airy and transcendent.	Wednesday, January 1: New Year activities; various things by mail, among them a folder of manuscripts from Prof. Nietzsche containing forewords to unwritten books. Otherwise nothing to give us pleasure; the people in Vienna more and more incomprehensible, nobody knows how much there is in the bank. We work out a plan for a concert in Berlin and a reading in Frau von Schleinitz’s house before the assembled might of intellect and breeding. It is such a gloomy phase which we are now entering, as if everything were against us; one is literally set upon by ugly things, a newspaper is sent to us which reports that someone had asked for an album leaf, whereupon R. sent him two certificates of patronage, which he dutifully signed! No wonder that R. is utterly dispirited and ill. He has written to London asking if it would be possible to earn a large sum there. God knows! In the evening we read Prof. N.’s forewords; we also read Aristophanes, bits from The Birds, which enchant us. Then a conjurer, Herr Smith, came and enchanted us with his amazing dexterity. R. says, “A person like that is a wild character, in fact, a flawed rogue; something has held him back from becoming one, a certain fear, and now the urge finds expression in this way.” Prof. Nietzsche’s manuscript also does not restore our spirits; there are now and again signs of a clumsy abruptness, however deep the underlying feelings. We wish he would confine himself principally to classical themes. (Wrote all kinds of letters to all corners of the earth.) Today (the 4th) Richter arrives, bringing good news of my father. (During these days R. continues work on his articles.) R. amused me very much with his description of a dispute with the dean, who is reading Hartmann’s Philosophy of the Unconscious with much enjoyment; R. argued heatedly against a philosophy that gives pleasure, the dean against Schopenhauer, whom he has not read. The 7th volume of R.’s writings has been published. Yesterday we went through The Marriage of Figaro (last scene) and afterward read the same scene in Beaumarchais, and once again felt the transfiguring influence of the music. “In the play they are like beetles, struggling laboriously on the ground; in the opera they are butterflies playing in the air.”
January 5, 1873	297	The day is shaped by mild weather, family walking, and anxious talk about the difficult atmosphere surrounding their work and public prospects. Guests bring news of disappointments and political upheaval, while the author reflects on the fragility of great achievement and the recurring need to begin again. Music provides the main refuge, especially the reading and hearing of the Idyll and scenes from Götterdämmerung and Tristan. The final reflection turns intimate and almost devotional, portraying R. as a gifted artist trapped inside earthly limits.	Sunday, January 5: Very fine weather, still no winter; I go for a walk with the children after having talked again with R. about the strangeness of these times in which everything is against us; our good Weitzmann wrote so fearfully about the projected Berlin concert that it became quite ridiculous; Dr. Pusinelli writes that Dresden is not worth bothering about, etc. Nevertheless, a cheerful lunch with Richter and the children, despite sorrowful talk of Bismarck’s leaving the Prussian government; the greatest deeds can do nothing for the greatest of men. Bismarck has created Germany, R. a German theater, and both have to keep starting again from the beginning. R. visits our house with Richter and is very pleased with it. I write to A. Frommann, from whom I received an excellent letter (she says of the Grand Duchess, “She saves, and she is in a bad mood” - this as an occupation!). The copyists come in the evening, without Herr Kastner, who has fulfilled all our worst misgivings, and Richter, who tells us all sorts of unpleasant things about Hans: his unbounded rudeness, etc.; that makes me very sad. Thank goodness, R. goes through parts of Act III of Götterdämmerung, then Tristan, and finally the Idyll, which charms us all. “Yes,” says R., “that was our poetic period, the dawn of our life, now we are in the full glare of the midday sun, my dear wife, and climbing the mountain.” The memory moves me to tears, but much more the work itself. Alas, what gifts have here been deposited in an earthly frame, how well I understand what he must suffer when life eternally keeps him from pouring out these gifts! He must be in a continual state of convulsion, like a poor bird kept from flying!
January 6, 1873	216	The entry blends private dreams, small social irritations, and steadily deepening thoughts about art. R.’s dream about violent politics and missing the author gives way to practical matters like a child’s first day at school and neglected holiday greetings. The visit to the building site becomes a powerful symbolic experience, almost mythic in scale, while dinner with friends is pleasant but slightly uncanny. The day ends in moonlight, underscoring the mixture of beauty and unease.	Monday, January 6: In the night thought much again about the nature of art, in consequence of Prof. N.’s forewords; R. dreamed that King Ludwig II had been shot dead. He tried to find me in order to tell me, could not find me, was bitten by an angry dog, comforted himself with the thought that it was Louis-Philippe who had been shot, since he had often enough been the target, then woke up, still not entirely well. (I note that the Lerchenfelds have not returned our New Year’s greetings - probably on instructions from higher up.) Loldi today went to school for the first time! Yesterday evening R. read us the rules of the mastersingers’ art as laid down in Wagenseil’s book - remarkable how R. extracted all the essence for his own work, leaving out the peculiarities and using only what was most characteristic. He said, “The names must all be genuine, invented ones are valueless.” Around noon drove with R. and Richter to the building site; indescribable impression! It is like a path to the underworld, or the foundations of an Egyptian temple! And then the charming, peaceful surroundings. Lunch with Richter, in the evening with the Feustels, very pleasant, even if to me it still seems a somewhat strange world. Return home by moonlight.
January 7, 1873	148	The author’s birthday is celebrated with gifts, visitors, and social calls that mix warmth with political conversation. News about Bismarck’s removal and other public matters sits beside affectionate family exchanges and a welcome letter from her father. A promised reading is fixed, and old acquaintances come and go, with some annoyances from Kastner in the background. The emphasis is on gratitude and connection, especially in the lovely present from Paris.	Tuesday, January 7: R. surprises me with a lovely writing case from Paris; my birthday is to be celebrated today, and we have invited the mayor, the dean, and friend Feustel, and to them is added Herr von Gersdorff, who suddenly arrives from Silesia; we demand from him a report on Bismarck’s removal from the Prussian government - it really looks as if the Conservative and the Clerical parties have joined hands to restore particularism to Prussia. Nice letter from Herr von Schleinitz; the reading is fixed for the 17th. Letter from my father, who is not entirely well, but is in very good spirits; he asks for a meeting with us in Pressburg. Departure of Herr v. G., whom we have much enjoyed seeing again (unpleasant Kastner tricks); and of Richter, who is and will always remain the same. (R. gives me a very lovely writing case from Paris.)
January 8, 1873	90	This day centers on family rituals, school concerns, and frustration over money and stagnant affairs. The author writes to her father and follows R.’s work, while worrying about Loldi’s health and whether school suits her. External reading about military history offers a welcome sense of clarity and restraint. The mood remains strained, but the visit from Frau von Lerchenfeld briefly relieves the pressure.	Wednesday, January 8: Hans’s birthday! I write to my father, R. continues with his article about our journey. We eat with the children and drink Hans’s health - Loldi is not very well, we fear that school might not agree with her. R. suffers many vexations, demands for money from all sides, and all our affairs so stagnant! We find true refreshment in some passages from the general staff’s account of the war; the description of the Steinmetz error pleases us particularly with its restraint and delicacy. (Visit from Frau v. Lerchenfeld.)
January 9, 1873	181	The author makes social and professional calls, then receives a long-awaited delivery of beautiful things to wear that delights her. Music and memory are tightly linked, as she recalls how the Idyll sounded in Tribschen and how R. evokes the imagery of instruments with unusual vividness. R. is absorbed in the question of German identity, while the old dean visits with courteous admiration. The evening turns toward mythology and reflection, keeping the tone inward and contemplative.	Thursday, January 9: Paid calls, among others to Herr Grossmann, the headmaster, to make some comments on the girls’ school. When I return home R. shows me a telegram from Strassburg which states that the things for me which R. has been expecting since Christmas have still not arrived. I go into the salon and find a huge array of things to wear, each lovelier than the next! My delight makes R. laugh. Recently the Idyll was played for our friends, and we recalled how it sounded in Tribschen. “What a sound such a wind instrument makes!” R. says. “The strings are like a forest, and the woodwinds like the birds within it.” R. is thinking more and more about the topic “What is German?” The old dean visits us, wanting R. to accompany him to the Thursday gathering, but R. does not go. “He does not wish to leave you,” says the good dean, after he had inspected all my lovely things with friendly delight and told me I deserved them. In the evening read the chapter on God in Grimm’s Mythology.
January 10, 1873	133	The day is full of family errands, work on Berlin plans, and news that is mostly discouraging. Letters from England and news of Napoleon III’s death are met with little emotional response, suggesting a climate of exhaustion or detachment. Practical matters about travel and a Crystal Palace concert proceed in the background. The author also notes an uneasy social wish, comparing her respect for Moltke to something distant and nearly untouchable.	Friday, January 10: Went to see Loldi in school, little pleasure in it; fetched the children at various times. R. writes the introduction for his Berlin reading. Letter from my mother. R. has a letter from England which gives him little joy, like all news from outside at the moment. Proposal for a concert in the Crystal Palace with half of the proceeds going to the C.P. company! We learn with hardly any emotion of the death of Napoleon III at Chislehurst. In the evening revised our travel plans. We spoke about Moltke, and I tell R. I should find it embarrassing if Marie Schl. were to introduce him to us on the evening of the reading. My respect for him puts him on a plane as distant as the orbit of the planets.
January 11, 1873	450	This is a day of farewell decisions, changing telegrams, and uncertainty about a troubled Dresden engagement. The author spends much of the time with the children, while R. deals with demands and continues to shape the house and school question. Schiller’s poetry becomes a major source of consolation, moving the household deeply and giving the children formative impressions. The entry closes with R.’s affectionate inscription in the new writing case, turning the gift into a symbol of mutual dependence.	Saturday, January 11: Much with the children, since these are my last days here. To and fro with Dresden, we send telegrams saying yes and then no, since more detailed reports describe it as a very wretched affair. Dr. Pusinelli cables R. that he must come, but R. does not want to. A walk with the children past the theater to the Bürgerreuth inn. R. joins us at the Bürgerreuth, to our great delight. Unfortunately he has had a letter from Herr Am Rhyn, who has the effrontery to insist upon compensation. Yesterday R. went to inspect our house with Loldi, whom he fetched from school. He says this would be my task - to establish a good school - for we do not care for anything we find here. In consequence of a final letter from Pusinelli, we decide to travel on Monday. With the children a lot, in the evening R. reads “The Battle” by Schiller to them in his splendid way, also “The Diver.” I am glad that the children are receiving such impressions, and I myself am moved to tears by Schiller’s genius, through the instrument of R.’s voice. Of “The Diver” he says: “What is particularly beautiful about it is that it is really a phenomenon of Nature, and the human heart seems hardly to be concerned in it. But what have people made of it, basing operas and dramas on it, turning it into a political conspiracy or a love intrigue! It just shows that nobody has understood Schiller’s delicate art!” He speaks about the 8th volume and says he would like to end it with his poem to the King, were it not that he must reproach himself that it is in part untrue, for I must know very well to whom he owed the fact that the work was written - why else was it not completed in the earlier years? I beg him to include it all the same, for our gratitude to the King must be unconditional. In saying this I search my heart to find out whether it does not perhaps contain a trace of vanity - I hope to goodness not, and that my love is pure and selfless! (Of the King we hear that, in view of his financial difficulties - due to his expenditure - he is thinking of indulging in speculation and is forming a company to assist him to that end; Feustel was invited to take part, but he has declined!) R. has written in my new writing case the inscription O Kosel, o Kosel, mein holdes Getösel! which is meant to suggest that I am for him the movement without which he would be paralyzed.
January 12, 1873	382	The journey begins under pressure, with a last-minute telegram forcing a hurried departure and creating a sense of turmoil. A small act of cruelty toward a fish at the station upsets R. and leads him into a moral reflection about art versus ordinary human help. As the trip continues through attractive landscapes and industrial scenes, the author alternates between sorrow and wonder at modernity. Arriving in Dresden, they settle in, while R. reflects on early musical impressions and on his own operatic innovation.	Sunday, January 12: Got the children washed early, at breakfast received a telegram from Pusinelli saying that Rienzi is being performed on Monday, decision to leave at midday, great turmoil! We are ready in time, at 1:30 p.m. at the railroad station, where unfortunately R. sees a poor fish wriggling out of a woman’s basket; he goes up to her, tells her for God’s sake to have the fish killed; stupidly and heartlessly she replies it will not take long to get to the next stop; R. greatly upset: “One shouldn’t bother with art,” he exclaimed, “but wander through the streets, observing things quietly, admonishing, and helping. Fine churches, fine sermons - one sees what help they are!” Gloomy start to our journey, but gradually our thoughts grow more cheerful amid the pretty scenery; lovely sunshine. I talk to R. of the effect on me of “The Diver” and “The Battle” and “Ode to Joy.” “In the last,” he says, “one sees the influence of Klopstock - the ode. It was a good period - everybody awakened by Frederick the Great, but as regards his own consciousness of this action, one can see from history what that was. He was the complete ‘Fanget an’ [‘Now begin’] - only he did not know it!” Lovely impression of the lighted smelting works in the Erzgebirge, which gleam like glowworms in the depths, busy people toiling and moiling inside them! Towns increasing vastly in size: I ask myself sadly what we are after in this industrial Iron Age. One last shriek and upsurge of art in its extremity! In Chemnitz at 8 o’clock, much pleasure in seeing R.’s sister Klara again, at 10 o’clock in Dresden. Put up in the Hotel Bellevue. In the train, thinking of Fidi, R. spoke of his own impressions of Der Freischütz in his 5th year, how he tried to imitate Samiel lurking in the bushes and to sing the theme - these early impressions had surely done him no harm, on the contrary. He continues: “If only Weber had set all the dialogue to music - from the drinking song to the end of the act - what a splendid scene it would have made! That is my real innovation: that I have incorporated dialogue into opera, and not just as recitative.”
January 13, 1873	94	The final entry is crowded with reunions, visits, and the practical inconveniences of a performance that cannot fully satisfy. The author sees old friends and family members, while R. walks and later hears Queisser, whose emotional loyalty to Bayreuth stands out. Riemann’s performance still interests her, but the cuts in the fourth act are exasperating. Overall, the day feels like a mix of hospitality, artistic seriousness, and frustration with compromise.	Monday, January 13: Good night; welcomed by Elis. Krockow; visits to the Wesendoncks, nieces Ottilie and Marianne, sister Cacilie, the Pusinellis - took up a lot of my time, during which R. went walking. In the evening R. and Queisser, the old trumpeter, splendid; he says he wept because he could not come to the Bayreuth festival - Count Platen had forbidden anyone to go there. Rienzi, better here than in Vienna, again keeps me very interested, but the absurd cuts in the 4th act drive us out. In the evening the Wesendoncks visited us.
January 14, 1873	192	R. is weary after a poor night, but the day is marked by social calls, orchestral goodwill, and a banquet at the Belvedere. Wagner speaks publicly about his memories of Dresden, his supporters, and the larger artistic cause his friends are building around him. The evening leaves a strong impression, especially through his tribute to the orchestra players, who are prevented from staying with him. The day closes with a sense of artistic solidarity tempered by separation and fatigue.	Tuesday, January 14: Bad night for R.; he feels weary. I again pay some calls (Frau v. Marenholtz, E. Krockow) and, in passing, look in on the collection of engravings. R. exchanges some words with the orchestra players and finds them all well disposed toward him. He says one can certainly still see something of the old tradition in the orchestra. Visit from Weber’s young grandson and from our nieces. At 8 o’clock, banquet in the Belvedere, a very nice company of women and men. Dr. Pusinelli welcomes R., and R. replies, referring in his speech to his memories of Dresden, Tichatschek, all the powers who had protected him, friends (Wesendonck), the King; the power to which he is now appealing, the friends of his art; but not yet a national undertaking. This it could become, as the creation of his friends, of whom he now has many in various towns. Great impact; R. also pays tribute to the orchestra players, to whom he cannot say Auf Wiedersehen since they have been refused leave of absence. Thus are they divided in spite of their love, but united through eternal art. Home around one o’clock.
January 15, 1873	367	The day begins more peacefully, with a military band paying Wagner a warm musical tribute that he acknowledges in an unusual and slightly improvised way. The family then departs Dresden, and the journey stirs up Wagner's childhood memories and reflections on Beethoven, Beethoven's avoidance of conventional cadences, and Goethe. Upon arriving in Berlin, they are greeted by family and friends, which deeply moves them, especially news of the children. The day ends with renewed tenderness and social warmth after the emotional travel.	Wednesday, January 15: R. slept tolerably well, thank goodness. In the morning the military band of the Regiment of Grenadier Guards came and played the Overture to Rienzi, the “Bridal Procession” from Lohengrin, and the Kaisermarsch, all very beautifully. R. went downstairs to thank them, and since there was no door to the yard and he did not feel able to go into the street in his morning suit with beret and jacket, he had a ground-floor apartment unlocked and climbed through the window. Let us hope the poor people are not made to pay for their friendliness! The conductor did not have his commandant’s permission. Left at 2:50 P.M., in splendid weather. Many childhood memories return to R. in the surroundings of Dresden; before our departure he took me on a search for the Stille Musik - it has vanished. He shows me the apartment near the Linkesche Baths where, as a boy, he invited some other boys to shoot, preparing a bird himself, for which the boys jeered at him. In the train he began by remarking, “Just like physicians with their medicines, which they grow more and more to distrust and utilize less, so it was with Beethoven and melodies with cadences; the nearer he came to Nature and its simple motives, the more he avoided as much as he could the dominant (the most striking example of that is the trio of the scherzo in the Ninth Symphony, where he uses it only once); he hated all conventional endings.” Then, after quite a long silence, he says, “How magical it must have been when Goethe, as a handsome and bold young man, read his Got aloud and then in his bewitching eccentricity spoke those simple, heartfelt words, ‘To the man whom he loves, God gives a good wife’!” At 9 o’clock in Berlin; Georg is there from Bayreuth and tells us that on his departure the children had besieged him, and all, even Fidi, had instructed him to convey greetings to Mama and Papa. Thoughts of the children move us deeply. Put up again in the Tiergarten Hotel, Marie Schleinitz comes and delights us once more with her friendliness and lively interest. To bed around 11 o’clock.
January 16, 1873	93	After writing to the children and making a few visits, the day is largely social and politically charged. Wagner's acquaintances discuss how hostile press reports may have been engineered to stir opposition against him, suggesting the ongoing conflict around his reputation and productions. The evening ends at the Schleinitzes' with a visit from members of the Wagner Society. Wagner uses the occasion to present his concert plan, indicating that public advocacy remains central to the trip.	Thursday, January 16: Wrote at last to the children; visited Frau v. Schl., then home. R. goes for a walk and at once encounters Eckert and Niemann. The latter declared that all the nasty reports concerning the Tristan affair were given to the newspapers by Herr v. Hülsen himself, in order to raise feelings against Lohengrin by suggesting how arrogant Wagner is, committing an affront against the theater management, etc. Dinner at the Schleinitzes’, and in the evening a visit from some members of the Wagner Society; R. puts forward his plan for a concert.
January 17, 1873	182	The morning is spent finalizing arrangements for a public reading, with Marie Schl. asking for delicate details to be removed from the introduction. Wagner is unwell and has had poor nights, but the reading of Götterdämmerung draws a distinguished audience and seems to make a substantial impression. The day also includes renewed discussion of the stalled Lohengrin performance, with hopes that the Wagner Societies can press the matter. Social success follows for the narrator as well, though Wagner jokingly claims she stole some of his thunder.	Friday, January 17: In the morning to Marie Schl.’s to make some final arrangements with regard to the evening; she requests the removal from the introductory remarks of certain details, the mating, the pregnancy, out of consideration for prudes! R. is not well, bad nights. Departure from the hotel at 7:30. The reading of Götterdämmerung starts at 9 o’clock before a mixed but very select audience (Lepsius, Helmholtz, Delbrück, Moltke, the Crown Prince of Württemberg, Prince Georg of Prussia, virtually all the ambassadors). I cannot judge the impression the reading made, but I believe it was considerable. It is 20 years since I first heard this work, in Paris, read by R.! The lady in waiting Countess Oriola talks to me about the performance of Lohengrin, says the Emperor does not know that Hülsen has refused it; R. should make an application. It is decided that the Wagner Societies should make this application. Many friendly ladies (Princess Biron, Countess Voss, Frau v. Rochow). Marie Schl. says I was a great success, and R. told me jokingly that I ruined his own successes, distracted attention from him!
January 18, 1873	50	The visit concludes with packing, farewells, and gratitude to Marie Schl. for her hospitality. The party travels onward, arriving in Hamburg to cheering crowds, which shows the public interest surrounding Wagner's presence. Despite the welcome, exhaustion makes everyone irritable. The day is marked by movement, attention, and weariness rather than rest.	Saturday, January 18: Packed! Visited Marie Schl. once again, to thank her for her kindness. Left at 2 o’clock (saw Dohm and Bucher again yesterday; the former accompanies us to the railroad station). At 8 o’clock in Hamburg, met by a considerable number of cheering people. Great weariness, making us irritable.
January 19, 1873	137	The morning opens with a festive serenade and rehearsals, as Wagner works with a municipal orchestra rather than a court ensemble. He is struck by how vulgar public spirit has become, and the comment underscores his preference for aristocratic patronage and artistic refinement. Later the family receives visits and an invitation from a cultural association, then spends the evening with relatives. The day ends in cheerful spirits, with Wagner looking well.	Sunday, January 19: Military band serenade: Overture to Tdmi, Tannhäuser, Act II, Trenyi recitative. Rehearsal from 9 till 12, nice welcome, R. in some difficulty since we are dealing with a municipal orchestra - there is no Court here to insure even a modicum of refinement! “The public spirit has become so vulgar,” R. remarks, “that we must be glad we still have Courts.” Kaisermarsch, Lohengrin, and Tristan Prelude are rehearsed. R. is not too severely taxed by it, thank goodness; he goes to bed, I write to the children. At 9 o’clock a deputation arrives from the Association of Arts and Sciences and invites us to a banquet. In the evening our nieces Johanna Jachmann and Marie (Jacoby) and a Dr. Uhde with wife. R. and I in cheerful spirits after they have gone; he is looking well.
January 20, 1873	375	The day centers on rehearsing Beethoven's C Minor Symphony, which moves both Wagner and his wife deeply. Wagner responds as an interpreter and critic, thinking about how the symphony's parts interlock and how difficult the score is to conduct effectively. The evening culminates in a lavish banquet where Wagner is praised in patriotic and literary terms and responds emotionally. The occasion feels like a peak of public recognition, reinforced by good news from the children.	Monday, January 20: A good night, rehearsal at 10 o’clock, C Minor Symphony; the good people do their best and it goes really well, they understand R. at once. Tremendous impact of the work on R. and me; he says that on the recapitulation of the melancholy little march he could not conceal his emotion: “They have been more or less driven off by the more weighty, happy pomp, but they sound again, as if saying they also had a right to be heard - everything here is dramatic.” I told him that during the finale I had thought of the procession to the Panathenaea, and this little march he mentioned was for me like the procession of virgins who carried the pylos of each athenaeum - that for war, people, etc. At the same time we were both thinking, each in his own way, of Fidi; I thought: He will never know how these things should sound if he does not hear them conducted by his father - and he probably will not! Perhaps he has it inside himself. The indescribable relationship between the various parts of a Beethoven symphony - they belong together, but who can explain how? R. says he would like to change the 4 time signature of the first movement into 2 because it is so awkward to beat as written, and the nuances also suffered in this rhythm; it gave rise to too many accents. Beethoven, he thinks, must have felt that people would go wrong in 4 and thus wrote it as if for children. Telegram to the children, from whom I have had no letters. At 9:15 in the evening we are fetched by Dr. Baumeister and taken to the Sagebiel restaurant; a lavish banquet, in the best of styles and the best of company. The speaker, Dr. Baumeister, reveals himself to be a thorough connoisseur of R.’s writings and welcomes him as a patriot, author, poet, etc., in words full of significance. R. replied, very moved. The Bayreuth arms hang on the wall opposite those of Hamburg. My second neighbor, Senator Petersen (the police president), proposes the toast to me. The banquet ends at 2 o’clock - it was the finest ever given for us. Good news from the children.
January 21, 1873	151	A second round of serenades and a concert fill the day, but the results are uneven because the orchestra has been assembled from many places. Wagner is pleased by the crowd and the success of some pieces, yet the Beethoven performance disappoints him enough that he rejects including more Beethoven in the next concert. The evening leaves him exhausted, while the narrator is overtaken by sadness at the burdens Wagner must carry. Public success and private strain sit side by side.	Tuesday, January 21: Second serenade, Kaisermarsch, Freischütz Overture, Prelude to Act III of Lohengrin. Much delight in the throng of people, and particularly the poodles, who start back every time drum and bassoon sound. The weather is lovely. Dr. Rohde comes to visit us, and we drive to Blankenese for a meal. At 7 o’clock the concert; the C Minor Symphony does not go as R. wishes it, the orchestra having been assembled from all over the place, and R. decides at once not to include any Beethoven in the second concert, since it vexes him far too much when these works are not played properly. “Siegmund’s Love Song” is encored, and the success seems to have been very great. R., very tired, goes to bed at once. When I, too, lay myself down to rest, I am assailed by terrible melancholy - over the thought that R. is obliged to do this!
January 22, 1873	109	The day begins with social calls and a visit from Fritz Brockhaus, followed by a telegram to Fidi that improves Wagner's spirits. In the evening, the theater is brightly lit and the city is enthusiastic, but the performance of Die Meistersinger is poor and the gala dinner afterward feels awkwardly managed. Wagner and his companion are tired and somewhat vexed by the event's missteps. The day mixes public display with disappointment in execution.	Wednesday, January 22: Returned many calls; while we were out yesterday, a section of Hamburg society called here. Fritz Brockhaus, who has come over from Kiel, accompanies me. Returning home at 4 o’clock I find R. in good spirits; he has sent a telegram to Fidi. At 7 o’clock to the theater, the house with gala lighting, flourishes on arrival and departure, cheering in the street - but unfortunately a very bad performance of Die Meistersinger, and after it a gala dinner given by the performers, who had not been admitted to the patricians’ first banquet! Great weariness and some vexation over the awkwardness of the arrangements. Home around 2 o’clock.
January 23, 1873	268	The final day is split between rehearsals, visitors, and a concert that proceeds only adequately. Wagner remains alert to audience response and responds to the applause with a dignified speech that frames Hamburg as part of a continuing artistic enterprise. In a private moment, he tells his wife that he thinks of her constantly and sees her as the center of his life and work. The day closes with another social obligation and news of a death, adding gravity to an already demanding schedule.	Thursday, January 23: Rehearsal of the Tannhäuser Overture and the “Forging Songs” - after which R. goes to bed; meanwhile I receive visits (the Russian Consul General von Hoeltzke, Dr. Baumeister and wife, etc.). At 7 o’clock the concert, smaller attendance than the first - R.’s old experience with regard to concerts. In my box the two professors, Senator Petersen and daughter, Prince Carolath, Johanna; it goes tolerably well, particularly the Tristan Prelude - which fascinates the players most of all - and the Kaisermarsch. Since there seems no end to the flourishes and calls from the audience, R. makes a very dignified speech, in which he says he can best reply to the great friendliness shown him in Hamburg by inviting the people of Hamburg to continue participating in a great venture which they have now already helped to further. He looks very solemn, indeed somberly noble, as he speaks these words. Between the rehearsal and the concert, while he was resting, he called me to him in order to tell me that in all this he was thinking constantly of me, that I was everything to him, Justitia, Sapienta, Poesia, everything - oh, could he but know how much I think of him! He gets up again at eleven o’clock to devote an hour of his time to Senator Hayn’s party; his wife had done the honors at the banquet, and we were told it would help our cause if R. were to make this sacrifice. R. of course besieged by everybody, a very elegant company with a high opinion of itself. News of the death of Grand Duchess Helene.
January 24, 1873	146	The day is filled with social obligations, business talk, and practical matters despite the wish for rest. Wagner receives visitors connected to patronage and concert finances, and the couple are encouraged by the seriousness and cultural range of one supporter. A dinner and additional visits leave them exhausted, with Wagner speaking out of fatigue rather than energy.	Friday, January 24: An additional day here, in order to rest; but no rest is possible. First of all, there is a visit from Herr Zacharias, an enthusiastic businessman who intends to sell 20 certificates of patronage in Hamburg and speaks of the founding of a Northwest German Wagner Society. Following him comes the committee that arranged the concerts; they report receipts of 5,000 thalers and expenditure of 1,500 thalers. In the afternoon we drive out to pay calls, and in the evening we have dinner with Herr and Frau Zacharias, whose fine and intelligently chosen library gives us great pleasure and arouses our confidence in this man’s participation, for he possesses all of R.’s works from the first editions onward. In the evening we see the Petersens once more, but we are very tired, and R. declares that he is talking too much out of pure weariness.
January 25, 1873	306	They leave Hamburg amid musical honors and enthusiastic farewells, then detour to Lübeck before continuing to Schwerin. The visit stirs Wagner’s memories and leads to powerful aesthetic impressions, especially in the churches. In Schwerin they attend opera, then are delighted by an unexpected street performance of Wagner music for a public gathering.	Saturday, January 25: The two military bands combine to serenade R.; they play the Tannhäuser March, the Egmont Overture, and the Prelude to Act III of Lohengrin. I pack again, and around 11 o’clock we leave Hamburg, accompanied by a hearty cheer, for which the excellent Baumeister gives the lead with great emotion. Fine weather. We decide, instead of going directly to Schwerin, to have a look at Lübeck. Memories flood into R.’s mind as he sets foot in this remarkable town. Minna’s wickedness, and the ease with which he forgave her: that is how it always was with him, he says, since basically his heart was never affected. We visit the churches; in one of them there is a picture by Memling which moves us unutterably. The four saints reduce us to tears, particularly the one in a black cloak, touching the roe-deer with absent-minded benevolence, the utter embodiment of Christianity. We arrive in Schwerin very tired, but we visit the Italian opera and see the last act of Il Barbiere di Siviglia. Once more we are struck by the tremendous talent of the Italians: diction, facial expression, gesture, all excellent; it reminds us of Gozzi’s masks. We watch the performance from the box of Herr von Wolzogen, a former enemy who now behaves in a very friendly manner. Back at the hotel we hear a murmuring in the street. I assure R. that the landed gentry has just been summoned to Schwerin for a masquerade. He laughs, and from the window shows me the familiar lanterns and the ring of people, and right away the Tannhäuser March begins, then the Kaiser-marsch and the Kient^i Overture, played by the military band, and indeed very nicely and in front of virtually the whole population of Schwerin. This surprise makes us laugh a lot. We put up at Stern’s Hotel.
January 26, 1873	247	Wagner is received by the Grand Duke in a friendly audience that seems to strengthen support for Bayreuth. The evening performance of Der fliegende Holländer draws public acclaim, and the singer Hill impresses Wagner as exactly the kind of voice he seeks. The day ends with a large banquet and ceremonial praise linking Wagner’s artistic fidelity to Senta’s.	Sunday, January 26: R. is summoned to the Grand Duke at 12 o’clock; he returns from the audience well satisfied. The Prince has pleasant memories of Bayreuth, and Richard was able to tell him that he is also remembered with gratitude for his humanity during the evil times of ’66. The Duke takes up 6 certificates of patronage. I write home and receive by cable good news of the children. At 6 o’clock there is a performance of Der fliegende Holländer; after the overture the conductor, Herr Schmitt, calls for a cheer and flourish for the “writer and composer, who is present.” In the first act the singer Hill at once makes a tremendous impression on us, and R. sees in him the kind of singer he needs. We are deeply moved by his performance. When R. was recalling Minna’s bad behavior in Lübeck, I said to him, “If only I had always been with you!” I could imagine how happy the composition of the Holländer would have made me, how the recognition and knowledge of his greatness would have sustained me through all difficulties! Between the second and third acts we are both summoned to the Grand Duke’s box; the two royal ladies converse with R., the Grand Duke with me: very friendly and good. After the performance there is a banquet with about 160 people; Herr von Wolzogen takes me in and is my neighbor. In the first speech, R.’s loyalty to art is compared with Senta’s loyalty.
January 27, 1873	178	The night is spoiled by the noise of late banquet guests, leaving everyone tired and irritable. A planned musical visit becomes strained when Wagner behaves sharply, and the narrator is hurt by his dismissive manner. Later calls and departures proceed in a quieter mood, though old acquaintances and good letters from home offer some comfort.	Monday, January 27: Very bad night, since many of the guests at the banquet remained in the hall until five in the morning and inevitably made a noise as they left the hotel. Invitation from the wife of the Master of the Household, von Bülow. Hill is to sing songs to us there at 12. At the moment of leaving, R., annoyed by this presumption, offends me, I admit it, to my shame, with the way in which he tells me he will not accompany me. Frau v. Bülow I discover to be a charming and gracious woman; Hill sings his songs very well, it seems to me, but my thoughts are elsewhere. Visit Frau von Suckow, a former acquaintance who looked me up and deeply touched me with the devotion she demonstrates toward me. Departure at 3 o’clock. R. meets again, after 40 years, the stage producer Schmale from Lauchstädt and Magdeburg; the old man is now 84 and is still a producer. Silent journey to Berlin; we are both sad. We find good letters from the children awaiting us.
January 28, 1873	54	News from Bayreuth brings renewed anxiety, especially over unpaid obligations in Vienna. The day is consumed by consultations, visits, and committee matters, with the possibility of Lohengrin still under discussion. The evening is comparatively calm but emotionally subdued, centered on conversation rather than resolution.	Tuesday, January 28: Very bad news from Bayreuth concerning Vienna: the people there have still not paid! Discussion of the concert, visit from Marie Schl., Lohengrin may perhaps be done after all. Dentist and various visits and committee meetings. In the evening I go by myself to Frau v. Schl.; all sorts of topics are discussed.
January 29, 1873	95	A long-awaited personal reconciliation is reached, and Wagner emphasizes that harmony with her matters more than anything else. While he handles a court visit and she shops, the evening socializing introduces several aristocratic figures. The entry closes on a dreamlike note, linking private feeling, grief, and companionship in sleep and waking life.	Wednesday, January 29: At last everything is resolved between R. and me! He says nothing can affect him except not being in utter harmony with me. That cuts at his very roots! I do some shopping. He visits the Duchess of Mecklenburg, who was very anxious to make his acquaintance and who, it seems, spoke to him very graciously. In the evening, at Frau von Schleinitz's, with Countess Oriola and Countess Briihl (lady in waiting to the Crown Princess). R. last night dreamed of happiness with me. I dreamed that I saw Hans weeping and wept with him.
January 30, 1873	88	Trouble arises when a singer takes offense over a perceived slight in the invitation process, creating another unnecessary social friction. The couple manage separate calls and a quiet meal with a new arrival, but their privacy is repeatedly interrupted by visitors. The day reflects the constant tension between artistic business and the intrusions of society.	Thursday, January 30: Bad news very early in the morning: Herr Betz, who is to sing the “Magic Fire Music,” has taken offense because R. did not make the invitation himself, and he has written a rude letter to friend Weitzmann. We pay calls, R. and I, separately. I welcome Marie Muchanoff, who has just arrived, and have a meal with her. We believe we have the evening to ourselves and are reading Jakob Grimm's autobiography when Herr Eckert and his wife interrupt us, as before them Niemann had done.
January 31, 1873	82	Wagner is unwell and bedridden, prompting medical advice for rest rather than treatment. While he recovers, the narrator attends an evening gathering among cultivated and politically connected guests, keeping the social round moving. The day ends more peacefully when she finds him sleeping deeply, which reassures her.	Friday, January 31: R. arises very unwell and weary. When I return from the dentist's, I find him in bed; the doctor who visits him can discover no temperature, but advises as much rest as possible. I go alone in the evening to Marie Schleinitz's, where Marie Muchanoff is receiving. Princess Biron, Frau von Rochow, Dr. Brandis, Baron Loen form a pleasant circle, and the conversation is lively. Returning home, I find R. in a deep sleep, thank God. He does not wake up.
No diary entries found.