Sunday, August 21:
Today our banns are called in the church; and on Thursday, the King’s birthday, we are to be married. Loldi is lying ill in bed. Nice letter from Marie Muchanoff, to which I reply at once. Dr. Suter reports that the King of Prussia has made peace proposals; God knows whether they will be accepted. (Letters to R.’s sisters, to E. Ollivier, to Claire, to Mme Schuré, etc.)
In the afternoon visit from Pecht, the painter, which pleases us very much. (Letter from Prof. Nietzsche; he is composing music in the military hospital.)
Monday, August 22:
The elder children’s certificates of residence arrive, which is very important for an undisturbed life here. The news of peace is not confirmed; the French people continue to live in complete ignorance of events, the war minister’s face never revealing anything but mystery and joy. Each side has lost 50,000 men.
R. writes a splendid letter to my mother; I write to Frau Wesendonck and ask R. if he is satisfied with the letter; he feels it goes too far, and says he had always thrown a poetic veil over this relationship, in order not to admit its triviality, but now he himself has lost his poetic feelings for it, and he does not care to be reminded. He thinks I might receive an unpleasant answer, but I do not believe that, for I believe my attitude is not lacking in delicacy.
Herr Pecht lunches with us, and we take great pleasure in showing him Tribschen. The wedding rings arrive. R. says he wants to laugh out loud like a child when he sees my signature: Cosima Wagner; it seems to him like a dream. I beg God, in his grace toward me in my joy, not to forget those who are mourning and suffering. (In the evening, yesterday and today, read King John, but it is almost impossible to keep one’s mind even on Shakespeare in these disturbed times.) Letter from Claire.