Cosima's Diaries

Recordings by Cosima Wagner between 1869 and 1883

Cosima Wagner kept her diaries from 1 January 1869 at Tribschen until the night before Wagner’s death in Venice on 13 February 1883. She wrote them for her children, so that Siegfried would one day know his father “truly,” and she wrote nearly every day: Wagner’s talk, his dreams, the evening readings, the music, the visitors, debts and quarrels. No other source lets us hear him thinking aloud for so long. The diaries follow the Tribschen idyll, the building of the Bayreuth festival theatre and the composition of Parsifal.

The entries are arranged by year and month and each can be opened on its own page. The sections below trace the main lines of the diaries.

Cosima Wagner began her diaries at Tribschen on 1 January 1869 and kept them until the night before Wagner’s death in Venice on 13 February 1883. She wrote them for her children, and above all for Siegfried, so that he would one day know his father “truly,” and she wrote nearly every day: what Wagner said at breakfast, his dreams, the evening readings of Shakespeare, Calderón and Goethe, the music played at the piano, the visitors, illnesses, debts and quarrels. No other source lets us hear Wagner thinking aloud for so long, or shows so clearly how his ideas moved in his last fourteen years. At Tribschen the household lives in a private idyll, sealed by the birth of a son and by marriage, with the Ring resumed and Nietzsche a frequent guest. From 1872 everything turns to Bayreuth and the building of a festival theatre, achieved through years of fundraising and near collapse. After the 1876 Ring the diaries draw inward to Parsifal, written at Wahnfried and finished on long Italian journeys, while Wagner’s talk reaches toward a religion of compassion drawn from Schopenhauer, Buddhism and the Gospels. The same pages record, often and plainly, the antisemitism of both Wagner and Cosima.

Tribschen. The first pages are a confession. Cosima, who had left Hans von Bülow for Wagner, calls her love “a rebirth, a deliverance,” and writes under a constant sense of guilt toward her husband that she never lost. The years at Tribschen bring the birth of Siegfried in June 1869, her divorce and her marriage to Wagner in the Protestant church at Lucerne on 25 August 1870, the Franco-Prussian War, the essay Beethoven and the completion of Siegfried. On her birthday that Christmas she woke to the Siegfried Idyll played on the staircase. Nietzsche first called on 17 May 1869 and became almost one of the family; his manuscript on the birth of tragedy arrived as a Christmas gift in 1870. Wagner’s remarks already circle the themes of his last years. Music, he said in November 1869, “is the direct product of Christianity, as is the saint,” and the next spring he described the Knight of the Grail as free because “he acts, not in his own behalf, but for others.” If anyone asked whether there was a God, he said in 1870, he would answer that at a moment when thousands are singing to him, “God is alive, he is there.”

Founding Bayreuth. In April 1871 the Wagners first saw Bayreuth; its baroque opera house “will not do for us at all; so we must build.” The foundation stone was laid in the rain on 22 May 1872, Wagner’s birthday, followed by the Ninth Symphony in the old opera house. The next four years are full of patrons, Wagner societies, singers, architects, concert tours and money. A royal loan in 1874 rescued the enterprise, and the family moved into Wahnfried that April. On 21 November 1874 Wagner finished the score of Götterdämmerung, a day Cosima remembered with tears, because he was hurt to find her reading a letter from her father at that moment. In between, Cosima converted to Protestantism on 31 October 1872 and took Communion with Wagner: “I felt as if our bond had only now been truly sealed.”

The first festival. The Ring was given complete for the first time in August 1876, before the German Emperor and much of musical Europe. The diaries record the mishaps as well as the triumph, and the exhaustion afterwards: looking back that November, Wagner said his main feeling during the performances had been “Never again, never again!” The festival left a large deficit, and the autumn in Italy brought two meetings that would shape the coming years: the last time the Wagners spent with Nietzsche, at Sorrento, and the first meeting with Count Arthur de Gobineau in Rome on 30 November.

The Parsifal years. Wagner began Parsifal in earnest in 1877 and finished the prose draft on 28 February (“The Redeemer unchained!” Cosima wrote) and the poem on 19 April. Composing the Communion scene that August, he told her that “this scene of Holy Communion will be the main scene, the core of the whole work.” The music grew slowly through 1878 and 1879 beside the founding of the Bayreuther Blätter, the regenerative essays and campaigns against vivisection, and the widening break with Nietzsche. In 1880 the family moved to Naples, where Paul von Joukowsky joined them as stage designer and the garden at Ravello suggested Klingsor’s magic garden; in Siena that August the cathedral moved Wagner to tears and became a model for the Temple of the Grail. That November he conducted the Prelude privately for King Ludwig in Munich. Gobineau stayed at Wahnfried in 1881, and Wagner read his books on race and on the Persians with growing enthusiasm. The score was finished in Palermo on 13 January 1882. “With this, as with all his other works,” Cosima wrote, “he had feared being interrupted by death.”

The premiere and Venice. Sixteen performances of Parsifal followed in July and August 1882, conducted by Hermann Levi. Wagner asked that the audience not call the singers out after the second act, rebuked a chorister for joking about the bread, and at the last performance took the baton himself for the end of the third act. The family then settled in the Palazzo Vendramin in Venice. The last months bring the news of Gobineau’s death, Liszt’s long visit, Hans von Bülow’s breakdown, and on Christmas Eve a performance at La Fenice of the symphony Wagner had written at nineteen, played as a birthday present to Cosima. He was weakened by repeated heart spasms, and he was still talking about writing symphonies and an essay on the feminine. The last entry, on 12 February 1883, ends with him at the piano playing the Rhinedaughters’ lament: “Extraordinary that I saw this so clearly at that time!”

Spirituality. The diaries are themselves partly a religious document. Cosima wrote under a sense of “unatonable guilt” toward Bülow and turned it into a discipline of renunciation. After her conversion she took Communion regularly, writing in 1873 that “the only true communion with people is before the altar,” and she read Meister Eckhart, Tauler, the Theologia Germanica and the Imitation of Christ (“Non sum! How dearly I should like to make that my motto!”). Her devotion to Wagner took the same form, and she wrote that in him she found “not my happiness, but my salvation.”

Wagner’s own faith was heterodox and he said so. Its foundation was Schopenhauer: “it was Schopenhauer who revealed Christianity to me,” he told Cosima in 1879. Through Schopenhauer came Buddhism and the Vedanta, which run through the diaries from first to last: the Buddhist drama Die Sieger, often planned and never written; the Brahmin saying “tat tvam asi,” which he spoke to Cosima at Christmas 1874; readings of the Bhagavad-Gita, the Upanishads and, in Venice, a new life of the Buddha. He set the two traditions side by side rather than choosing between them. Brahmanism was “the religion of intelligence,” but Christianity stood above it as “the religion of suffering.” Buddhism was “a flowering of the human spirit” with no church and no compulsion, and by studying the Buddha, he said in 1882, “one learns to understand Christianity.” Cosima put the difference in a sentence of her own: “Buddha does not move one, he teaches; Christ teaches by moving.”

At the centre stood Christ, kept apart from the church. “I do not believe in God, but in godliness, which is revealed in a Jesus without sin,” Wagner said in 1879, and he repeatedly complained that people “think only of the church and confuse this with Christianity.” In his last years he said that he recognized “no religion except compassion,” extended to animals as well as people, and this lay behind his vegetarian leanings and his fury at vivisection. Art was to carry what the churches had lost. “Art makes religions eternal,” he said in 1872; music was “the only possible church nowadays”; and in 1879 he gave the core of Religion and Art in a sentence, that religion should “influence ethics, and allow faith to be represented by art, which can transform illusion into truth.” “The path from religion to art bad, from art to religion good,” he noted in 1880.

Parsifal was where these ideas met, and the diaries show how carefully he guarded its tone. He called it “his most propitiatory work” and spoke of it as the dream vision of a rite, not the rite itself. He kept Christ off the stage on principle: “One cannot paint Christ, but one can portray him in music,” and to have Christ sung by a tenor was “a disgusting idea.” What he hoped for from his audience was less instruction than inward change, a recognition of suffering that leads to compassion and resignation. In December 1882 he said he would never again try to explain his ideas on the blood of Christ: “these are things one all of a sudden grasps.” Six weeks later, talking of Nature’s cruelty, he said it went on “until the appearance of the Saviour on the cross,” and added, “in the urge to put an end to the whole of Nature’s will to live.”

Nietzsche. The diaries hold the whole arc of the friendship. Nietzsche arrives in 1869 as a brilliant young professor who “knows R.’s works thoroughly,” spends holidays at Tribschen, writes The Birth of Tragedy under Wagner’s spell and stands beside him at the foundation stone. Cosima noticed early “a dubious streak” in him. The last meetings were at Sorrento in 1876. When Human, All Too Human arrived in April 1878, Wagner resolved not to read it, and by 1879 Cosima wrote that Nietzsche had “committed the one sin which cannot be atoned for, the sin against the Holy Ghost.” In later years Wagner spoke of him with contempt and some sorrow, as a promising mind that the modern world had ruined, while Cosima admitted that she could still remember only his friendly side.

Antisemitism. Hostile remarks about Jews by both Wagner and Cosima recur from the first year to the last, aimed at the press, critics, money, Meyerbeer and the modern theatre. In 1873 Wagner opposed intermarriage in racial terms, and the remarks grow harsher from 1879, when the antisemitic movement gathered in Berlin. That October, reading a speech by Adolf Stoecker, he was “in favor of expelling them entirely.” In December 1881, after the Ringtheater fire in Vienna, Cosima records him making “a drastic joke to the effect that all Jews should be burned at a performance of Nathan der Weise.” From 1881 Gobineau’s racial theories enter the conversation, though Wagner usually set Christianity against them; in June 1881 he was “downright explosive in favor of Christian theories in contrast to racial ones,” and that December he said that races were “done for, and all that can now make an impact is, as I have ventured to express it, the blood of Christ.” He also refused to sign the 1880 petition to Bismarck against the Jews, declined to let the Bayreuther Blätter join the agitation, and complained that nobody had noticed what Know Thyself said about “our own blame for our situation.”

The same diaries show Wagner depending on Jewish colleagues, above all Joseph Rubinstein, Angelo Neumann and Hermann Levi, and they show how that dependence was poisoned. In 1880 Wagner said he could not let Levi conduct Parsifal “unbaptized,” and in 1881 he told him he hoped to find “a formula which will make you feel completely one of us.” When an anonymous letter that summer made Levi ask to be released, Wagner wrote persuading him to return, and Levi conducted every performance in 1882 and was with the family in Venice in February 1883. One of the last entries records Wagner saying that “the Jews, the good ones,” were “condemned to a gently resigned asceticism.”

Because the diaries run to thousands of entries, the table below is a finding aid rather than a summary. Choose a year and month to browse, or search the entries, then open a day to read it in full.

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 February 1881 (28 total)

Date	Word Count	Subject
February 1, 1881	408	Richard spent a strained, restless day punctuated by discussions on Hamlet, Jewish identity, and Islamic piety as depicted in Gobineau's writings, finding the Muslim sense of submission to an inscrutable God far nobler than what he saw as Jewish materialism. In the evening, friend Feustel arranged the reimbursement of 40,000 marks to Hans, while the group debated a contested letter attributed to a Rothschild. The couple ended the night in nostalgic warmth, recalling their Tribschen years as a golden time, with Richard promising to complete his autobiography once Parsifal was finished.
February 2, 1881	259	Richard rested well and spent the morning productively on his literary article, pausing to enjoy his Braunes Buch before a walk in the palace gardens where they spotted a woodpecker. A visit from Dr. Landgraf brought a troubling local court case into conversation, prompting Richard's wry admission of a certain relish in witnessing human weakness. The evening was devoted to Gobineau's travel story, during which Richard mused that genuine love cannot be felt for humanity in the abstract but must begin within the family.
February 3, 1881	304	Though visibly exhausted, Richard pushed through his work and emerged satisfied by lunchtime, after which the day lightened with laughter over contradictory nature reports in the newspapers and a military parade that reminded them of Fidi. Reading Cervantes in the evening proved less enjoyable—his Renaissance story struck them as coarse and morally hollow—and Richard contrasted it unfavorably with Shakespeare, noting that Cervantes' genuine gift lay only in tales drawn from common life. The day closed with Richard gazing at the globe, amused by the geological caprice that spares Europe from permanent glaciation.
February 4, 1881	380	Richard worked contentedly on his article while the household buzzed with the milestones of the children—Boni's first ball, the girls preparing for confirmation, Lusch sending melancholy dispatches from the wider world. An evening attempt at "La Vestale" gave way to Beethoven's last quartet, which left the assembled friends in reverent silence and Richard reaching for words, settling on "stupidity" before crossing it out for "isolation." Afterward, over champagne, he reflected on how a nature like Beethoven's could never have been domesticated, yet in dreams had always appeared to him as gently consoling.
February 5, 1881	528	The day was brightened by Fidi's innocent energy and Cosima's quietly endured toothache, while Richard worked upstairs and took delight in the arrival of Hederich's Lexicon, whose absurd classical entries amused them both. A cold walk prompted a digression on the unity of Nature and the enviable physical self-sufficiency of animals compared to clothing-burdened humans. The evening culminated in an emotionally charged reading of the deathbed scene between Henry IV and Prince Hal, which Richard praised as unmediated truth—nature observed, not dramatized.
February 6, 1881	381	Richard began the day reflecting on how early theatrical experience had shaped writers differently—Lessing and himself through the stage, Goethe through amateur performance—before settling into work on his score. During their walk, a joking exchange about the Grail shining of its own accord led Richard to remark that he was once again fated to live out in reality what he had expressed in his poetry, including the loaded symbolism of the swan. In the evening Calderón's drama swept them into an atmosphere of surging passion, which Richard contrasted with Shakespeare by observing that in Calderón one always sees the hand of the conscious artist.
February 7, 1881	264	Richard spent the day writing his score while continually setting aside symphonic ideas that the demands of music drama forced him to suppress, lamenting that he could not compose as freely as even Weber had. Cosima stayed home with toothache while Richard walked with Loldi, and in the evening the group read the final acts of Hebbel's Herodes und Mariamne, gripped despite its uneven blending of passion and rhetorical dryness. Richard acknowledged the play's moments of genuine psychological truth while insisting that comparison with Shakespeare was simply out of the question.
February 8, 1881	288	Richard worked in good spirits and entertained the lunch table with childhood reminiscences—his secret plan to sail a boat down the Elbe and a rabbit-breeding scheme his mother discovered when the animals thumped inside a cupboard. Despite blustering winds the couple walked, and in the evening Richard gave an affecting performance of Loewe ballades, correcting what he felt was a misplaced ornament that failed to give eternity its proper solemnity. After their guests departed he reflected with gentle irony that their life together had come at least fifteen years too late, even as Cosima was struck by his luminous, childlike beauty at the piano.
February 9, 1881	533	A night gale burst open their bedroom window and sent both springing from bed, but Richard turned the disruption into comedy, joking that the storm had torn off his compresses. Over the course of the day he expressed his preference for composing over orchestrating—which he dismissed as mere arranging—and on their walk a half-formed musical idea surfaced about two melodies exchanging primacy, which he connected back to the Kaisermarsch. The evening ended with a moving tribute to the actress Schröder-Devrient, whose rare capacity for expressing genuine delight Richard likened to Cosima's own, before he confided a renewed longing for instrumental composition, a creative mood he said had once given birth to Tristan.
February 10, 1881	319	Richard began the day musing on the philosophical depth embedded in the German language before reading aloud his new essay "Know Thyself," which prompted a sustained conversation about whether Jewish nature was irreconcilably bound to worldly conquest rather than art as spiritual refuge. Wolzogen's article on the Wagnerite as writer moved them so deeply that Richard sent for him on the spot to share a toast, and the evening ranged across the Jewish question, Carlyle's righteous bearing, and Frederick the Great—whom Richard forgave everything on account of his uncompromising authenticity of character. A letter from Lusch and Cosima's solitary outing to a mental institution framed a day crowded with the interplay of intellectual debate and quiet personal feeling.
February 11, 1881	862	Wagner and Cosima share a playful morning exchange over the value of his article, with Wagner deflecting her praise through self-deprecating humor before they reconcile in good spirits. Despite poor weather, they walk in the palace gardens and reflect on Mozart's unjust poverty, while newspaper clippings spark Wagner's wry observation about becoming a legend in his own time. The evening brings music, intimate conversation about Tristan, and a tender moment where Wagner reassures Cosima that they are always in perfect harmony with one another.
February 12, 1881	141	After a restless and uncomfortable night, Wagner manages some work before an afternoon walk restores a measure of calm. The evening centers on reading Heinrich von Stein's article aloud, which the couple admires greatly, prompting a pointed contrast with Nietzsche's very different character. Wagner is visibly unsettled yet amused at being compared to Shakespeare, quoting his favorite self-deprecating anecdote to deflect the weight of such praise.
February 13, 1881	124	Refreshed after a good night's sleep, Wagner copies out his article and warmly receives Colonel and Frau Schaffer for lunch, struck afterward by how much the couple had aged. Their walk through the cold palace gardens prompts Wagner to observe that the grounds feel entirely imbued with the spirit of Parsifal. The evening closes with a deeply absorbing reading of Cervantes, whose work leaves a strong impression on both of them.
February 14, 1881	480	Cosima, worn from a difficult night, sleeps late while Wagner finishes his article and arrives at lunch wearing a new hat gifted by the "Order of the Holy Grail." Conversation at table turns to Gobineau's sweeping theory of humanity's decline, a subject that captivates Wagner and draws the family into wide-ranging discussion over coffee. The emotional high point comes in the evening when Cosima reads his article aloud, and the couple's subsequent conversation on civilization, morality, and the Gospels builds to an almost mystical shared intensity.
February 15, 1881	848	Wagner entertains the household at breakfast with a comical dream in which a stuttering count mangled a word in his article, then spends the morning composing a verse for the Knights of the Holy Grail. A glorious afternoon walk inspires a spontaneous insight about Beethoven's preference for the variation form as a release from symphonic constraint. The evening rises to a pitch of emotion when Rubinstein plays the Meistersinger Prelude and Wagner, deeply moved, repeatedly insists that none of his own life's circumstances truly "fit" the ideal he has found with Cosima.
February 16, 1881	425	Wagner recalls a childhood memory of returning home with absurdly mismatched gifts and being welcomed warmly by his family, a reminiscence tinged with nostalgia. A walk with Joukowsky turns sour when military band music prompts anguished thoughts about his son Siegfried being marched to such sounds, stirring talk of emigration. The evening is redeemed by Cervantes, whose Spanish world evokes Shakespeare for Wagner, and he closes with a wistful lament that he and Cosima found each other fifteen years too late.
February 17, 1881	858	Eva's birthday brings a tender scene when Wagner, pretending he had not forgotten, rushes back to embrace Cosima and then plays the "Prize Song" in his room. The day passes in lively discussion of the Odyssey, reflections on Schiller and Goethe, and a walk on the ice, punctuated by Wagner's characteristically playful wordplay. Alone together at the end, Cosima records in secret for Eva the most precious thing Wagner ever said to her — "I have never loved before" — spoken on the night of her birth.
February 18, 1881	399	Wagner's persistent finger pain colors the morning, and his contempt for the quotation-heavy pedantry of German scholarship makes for lively lunchtime conversation. The unexpected arrival of a quiet Scottish donor provides a pleasant contrast in the evening, during which Rubinstein performs Bach fugues that Wagner likens to the teeming, ordered life of Cervantes's stories. After the guests depart, Wagner and Cosima celebrate their solitude with champagne, tender reminiscences, and fond reproaches, savoring the happiness of being alone together.
February 19, 1881	457	Wagner opens the day in high spirits, declaring himself "Napoleon of the breakfast table," before turning to darker reflections on Mendelssohn and what he sees as the corrosive presence of a foreign element in German culture. Their walk is charmed by returning starlings and the comical antics of their dog Marke, who follows them with elaborate nonchalance. The evening brings a rich mix of Cervantes, conversation about Arab influences on Spanish and Italian poetry, and a moment of profound intimacy when Cosima tells Wagner that she now finds her salvation entirely in him.
February 20, 1881	714	Morning conversation turns on themes of decay and futility, prompted by Cervantes's Numancia, and Wagner draws sardonic parallels with Moltke's warmongering and the lost chance for European peace. His irritation over his painful fingers subsides by lunch, and an afternoon visit from a doctor bearing news of rubber finger-guards lightens his mood enough for a cheerful walk with starling song overhead. The evening ends at the piano, where Wagner improvises in the manner of Tristan and plays the Lohengrin Prelude, weaving together memories of old friends and houses while Cosima recalls first hearing Tristan as her brother lay dying — love and death inextricably entwined.
February 21, 1881	214	A day of intellectual and emotional warmth, as Richard and Cosima reflect on the symbolic weight of Amfortas's wound before his mood lifts considerably when medical rubber fingers arrive to ease his hand irritation. Their afternoon walk deepens their sense of closeness, and the evening brings genuine delight in a Cervantes episode featuring a witch — a passage so mysterious and powerful it calls to mind Kundry and Diotima. The evening is slightly soured by the intrusion of Hülsen's assertions, which Richard urges Cosima to answer in writing.
February 22, 1881	170	Cosima drafts a response to Hülsen through the night, then shares a lively morning conversation with Richard about the inexhaustible richness of Cervantes. At lunch they discover they have both been preoccupied with the triumphant conclusion of Beethoven's C Minor Symphony, and Joukowsky presents unsatisfying costume sketches for the Magic Garden. The day ends in Richard's absence from the musical gathering — he has taken ill and gone to bed, leaving the others to spend the evening with Tristan without him.
February 23, 1881	183	Richard begins the day feeling depleted but recovers somewhat, while concerns about the upcoming Berlin production mount as Neumann warns that Jewish audiences may stay away, prompting Richard to suggest abandoning the city for London entirely. A walk through the palace gardens brings Gobineau's bold racial and aristocratic ideas into their conversation, ideas that are feeding Richard's developing essay on heroism and Christianity. The evening is rescued from gloom by Cervantes, though an attempt to follow it with Hoffmann falls completely flat.
February 24, 1881	374	Richard suffers through a painful night with his fingers and cannot write, yet manages a brief flash of good humor before the discomfort reasserts itself. Dr. Landgraf's visit brings relief and lively conversation — including an anecdote about a student who received poor marks even on an essay his father had ghostwritten — and the evening with friend Wolzogen touches on the principled limits of their journal's advocacy, rejecting both vegetarianism and anti-Jewish agitation as too narrowly polemical. Richard closes the night with a luminous meditation on moral equality and a quietly profound reflection that one might greet both the end of a day and death itself with Faust's words: "Stay a while, you are so fair."
February 25, 1881	225	Richard's health remains poor and the news from Berlin is discouraging — Neumann refuses to abandon the production — while a sensitive episode involving Joukowsky's relationship with Pepino draws Cosima into an argument she later regrets. Their walk through falling snow offers some respite, shifting conversation to Bismarck's parliamentary declarations, which Richard finds hollow and arrogant. By evening, Richard's fingers continue to torment him, and he reflects with weary wisdom that all human relationships are ultimately a matter of what one brings to them — that they are, at heart, illusion.
February 26, 1881	157	A very bad night leaves Richard shaken, including a dream in which Cosima's late return home drove him to the edge of despair. The doctor prescribes compresses for the finger trouble, and a walk with both dogs to visit the ailing Joukowsky lifts the mood somewhat — one dog inspecting the paintings with apparent curiosity. Alone together in the evening, they discuss Hans von Bülow's presumptuous alterations to Weber's music and share their revulsion at accounts of European conduct toward Asian peoples in Jacolliot's books on India.
February 27, 1881	228	Despite an almost sleepless night, Richard surprises Cosima with his cheerfulness at breakfast and manages to work on his score, also receiving an absurd but amusing letter appointing him an honorary member of a Society of Friends of Divorce. Good news arrives by telegram confirming the Naples success of Lohengrin, and during their afternoon walk Richard reflects on a strange, suspended moment of relief he experienced on one of Hans von Bülow's birthdays in Munich years before. The evening gathers friends for music — a performance of the C Minor Symphony and scenes from Siegfried with Richard himself playing Mime — though he swears the persistent mud will keep him from ever wintering there again.
February 28, 1881	343	Richard sleeps reasonably well and spends a contented day working, exchanging warm correspondence with the King, and signing his tongue-in-cheek letter of thanks to the Friends of Divorce. On their walk, conversation drifts from Jews to German professors, whom Richard — borrowing a phrase from his uncle — memorably labels "truffle-snufflers," sending Cosima into laughter. The evening brings a thoughtful discussion with Dr. Landgraf on moral responsibility and equality, prompted by the case of a woman imprisoned for infanticide, and Richard cites an American example suggesting that a vegetarian diet had a civilizing effect on prisoners.
No diary entries found.