Cosima's Diaries

Diary Entry of February 2, 1883

Overview

A contemplative breakfast gives way to reflections on whether they will ever return to Venice or Italy, while a gondola ride on a glorious day is marred by the carnival crowds, sending them on a detour through the Merceria to avoid the overwhelming atmosphere. Wagner is absorbed by a conversation about Shakespeare's complete artistic impersonality—observing that Shakespeare watched the world silently and made sure his actors acted well—before spending the evening at the piano playing through passages from Die Meistersinger with evident pleasure. As they go to bed, Wagner wonders aloud whether he will ever see his old friend "Marke" again, and Cosima offers quiet reassurance.

Content

Friday, February 2:

R. slept well; we are in a contemplative mood at breakfast. R. talks a little about G. Sand's story Les Maîtres mosaïstes, which he finds of little interest, and he observes that the whole of French poetry reflects the Italian Renaissance. Today he drafts his letter to Glasenapp. Heavy thoughts! Will we ever return to Venice again? To Italy? He misses a lot here, but the thought of being shut up in the North makes him shudder. When at breakfast he hears the bells tolling, he says one cannot blame Faust for becoming so incensed with them.

In glorious weather we ride to the Piazzetta, but the crowds milling around on account of the festival are repugnant to him; we stroll through the Merceria to the Rialto, where we embark at the side, avoiding the butcher's shop which made such a terrible impression on R. the day before yesterday.

Over coffee R. and I discuss the utter impersonality of Shakespeare. R. had read in the Revue that in better circumstances Th. Gautier could have given France a further 5,000 verses: "That's what they mean by poets!" R. is convinced that all Shakespeare's sonnets were written for others: "Silently looking on, he derived his view of the world from observing, and apart from that he took good care that his actors acted well — one sees that from Hamlet."

At dusk he comes to me in the salon with Jouk.; he complains about the long evenings and also the lack of books. A letter from Malwida von Meysenbug vexes him because of the remarks it contains about Gobineau. The word "society" always makes him annoyed! R. then plays — with reference to Phylax — the Wilde Jagd, the barking of the dogs, then various things by Weber, but at last we come to Die Meistersinger, and he plays a lot of things from it, pleased with this enchanting work. "Cobble your shoes" — that had been his mood at the time, he says.

As we are going to bed, he wonders whether he will ever see Marke again — he says he has the feeling that we hide various things from him. I reassure him. Memories of Molly. Then he goes to sleep.