Cosima's Diaries

Diary Entry of February 11, 1883

Overview

Wagner wakes from a dream of the great soprano Wilhelmine Schröder-Devrient—one of the formative figures of his early life—and the morning passes in sympathetic discussion of Franz Liszt's difficult career and the way he has ultimately risen above its indignities. By midday, Wagner reports that he has begun new writing—his essay on "The Eternal in the Feminine"—declaring it so provocatively worded that even his editor Wolzogen will refuse to print it. The evening brings a quiet reading of Undine, a discussion of Beethoven's compositional choices, and the charming discovery of a new scherzo theme Wagner has jotted on an envelope—evidence that musical ideas keep flowing even in these final days.

Content

Sunday, February 11:

R. saw [Wilhelmine] Schröder-Devrient in his dreams; telling me of it, he says, "All my women are now passing before my eyes." We then talk about my father, in connection with a letter he has written excusing himself for not playing for the flood victims; we talk of my father's misfortune in always being regarded as a pianist, and about the difficulties of his career, which always caused such upsets that he could not help taking countermeasures of an extreme kind; but we end by observing that, as a person of greatness, he has risen above his difficult situation.

It is raining; the barber admires R.'s wit: "Piova di primavera," he says, and R. replies: "Di seconda vera." He tells me this gaily at breakfast. When, as we finish, I ask him whether he cares for me, he replies, "My world which contains only Isolde — how could it be without Isolde?"

At 12 o'clock he comes to me and reports that he has begun his work, and it is so heavily salted that not even Wolzogen will be willing to print it. He reads the first page to me and observes that the motives have been set out clearly enough!

Our poor conductor is causing much concern. In R. it shows itself indeed as ill-humour; he observes that one should really have nothing to do with Israelites — either it causes them emotional disturbance, or it finds expression in arrogance, as with J. Rubinstein. This theme is discussed over lunch, R. almost angry about it.

In the evening we are alone together, R. and I, the dear children with the Princess. We read Undine (discovered among the papers belonging to Jouk.'s father, which we looked through), and we take pleasure in the very good portrayal of this figure. Previously, when R. played the beginning of the Leonore Overture, the conductor told R. that in his various sketches for "tot erst sein Weib" Beethoven wrote down the note of B for "Weib." R. then maintains that he frequently made writing mistakes. He vehemently expresses his dislike for these so-called boldnesses, and says, "If I were to perform the Eroica, I should forbid the [left blank] in the last movement."

Around noon he came into my room. "I have a letter from Cyriax." "Is there anything in it?" "You'll soon see." When I have dried my hands, I look: it is a scherzo theme, written down on an envelope from Cyriax — he then plays it on his piano.