Cosima's Diaries

Diary Entry of August 31, 1881

Overview

An idyllic morning scene of ducks bathing in the courtyard charms Richard so completely that he orders them spared from the kitchen; the day otherwise moves harmoniously between drives, solfeggios, and lively table talk. A troubling incident involving the servant Köhler casts a shadow, as does young Loldchen's illness, which prompts Richard to make an aesthetic digression on Greek art prompted by her pallid appearance. The evening reaches its emotional peak when Marianne Brandt, despite being hoarse, sings Waltraute's scene with profound feeling, and Richard and Cosima end the night in animated literary conversation touching on Schiller, Plutarch, and old memories of Königsberg.

Content

Wednesday, August 31:

A good night for R.; he calls out to me in bed, “Anyone who finds you comparable will have to reckon with me!” The rugs give him pleasure, and he works. Early in the morning an idyllic scene pleased him greatly: two ducks, which the cook bought, bathing while the whole poultry yard looked on; R. gives orders that the happy birds are not to be used in the kitchen.

A letter from a vegetarian in Slavonia amuses us, and otherwise the day passes harmoniously, with a drive to the Grosses’ and solfeggios and exercises from friend Marianne Brandt. Only a piece of inconsiderate behavior on the part of Herr Kohler, which strengthens the decision to dismiss him, causes me serious concern, a dismal experience!

Loldchen unwell; R. says she looks like the Medusas we saw among the Etruscan graves near Perugia. Talking of these, he goes on to say, “Curious, no sign of emotion, and that round shape, like a full moon, a completely Greek culture.”

At lunch we discuss the possible use of the palace of the Office of the Royal Household as a residence for a prince, which produces a comment on Bismarck’s manner of dealing with people he does not like.

In the evening R. goes through “Hagen’s Watch” to see, as he says, what he has stolen, and he then links Waltraute’s scene onto it; our good Marianne Brandt sings it beautifully, in spite of her hoarseness, making an indescribable impression. (Yesterday, before going to bed, R. sang something from Tristan and, delighted with its rapturous melodic beauty, wondered where it came from: “Oh, of course, it is from Tristan!”)

A quotation which suddenly came into his mind, “That is a seignorial right in Arras,” prompts him to remark on the incredibly high moral tone which pervades Schiller, and we then pass on, I do not know how, to the dialogue between Odysseus and Circe in Plutarch, finding all our old delight in it. R. calls our good Marianne Brandt, whom I like very much, pure animal, but in a positive sense: there is nothing in any way false about her. And when someone says that everybody looks like some animal, R. says, “I look like a flea, hence the King’s favor.”

All kinds of memories of Königsberg, of the first days of his first marriage, are brought back to him by Frl. Brandt’s mentioning the theater in Königsberg. R. tells how the students hissed him because they thought he wanted to oust the conductor.