Cosima WAGNER. 3 L.A.S. "Cosi" (the last one initialled), Weimar and Berlin [February-December 1861], to her "dear Clairon" [her half-sister Claire de Charnacé]; 4 pages in-8 each filled with a small handwriting, one envelope. Very nice letters about the Parisian performances of Wagner's Tannhäuser, and about his daughter Daniela von Bülow. [Weimar 25 February]. She explains her silence by her poor health: "My weakness is considerable enough to make me consider as an event any bill that I smear, thanks to the weather, the climate, the saws and the crosses, I do not despair of recovering when I care least about it. I have very serious complaints about my mother, to whom I have not written either [...The Baronet [Bülow] is in Paris to push the Tannhäuser his old friend of 13 years; you will hear another performance of this revolutionary work than the one in Berlin; for the Baronet writes me that everything is magnificent, soloists, chorus, orchestra ; Add to this that the maestro [Wagner] has reworked the Venus, that the sets are in harmony with the rest, and that the costumes are splendid, and I do not see that you have reason to be dissatisfied with the expression that Badinguet gives to the protection he grants to an illustrious foreigner. Ah, if our monarchs (all 35 of them together) would do the same!"... She mocks Prussian political life: the Chamber "It is a bit like the court of King Petaud and by dint of explaining ourselves, we no longer get along at all. [...] At the top, one does not really know what foot to dance on, the king protests about his non-democracy and fights against the hobereaux, the latter furious swear to take revenge on the liberal party, the Jews always more numerous and more powerful sneak everywhere and slide on the insults to improve their situation and advance business, the bourgeoisie does not conceive of anything in all this but remains passive, and democracy wonders if it has to become governmental; ministerial, or to continue its opposition as under the late king. It is thus a complete anarchy, or rather a whole mishmash, from which will come out, according to my conviction, a better order of things; the bureaucratic and somewhat feudal state will give way to more liberal institutions and, notwithstanding my Red Baronet, Prussia has a great future" .... She evokes the monument of Luther by the sculptor Rietschel, who has just died; her own article in the Germanic Review about Frederick William IV... " Mother tells me in her last letter that she plans to move back to Paris; I confess that I am charmed by this; I believe that she needs distractions and intellectual movement, such as can only be found in this great center of the impossible, the detestable, and the extraordinary, and now that she has recovered I figure that a little of the world that it is easy for her to see will keep her in good spirits."... [Berlin around March 26]. She is in the middle of moving and gives her new address: " Schönebergerstrasse 10 [...] the only advantage I get from my future establishment is a reduction of expenses and a better location for the little one [Daniela, born on October 12, 1860] who asks to exist if not to live. What a disgrace this third performance in Paris [Wagner's Tannhäuser] is, and does not the fairness of the city rise up against this inconceivable and brutal persecution; has respect for thought for art, for the poet and for poetry completely disappeared, and is there no longer any right to expect a reaction. Is the Jockey Club the organ of Parisian society; is the conduct of rascals the only response to the word of the artist who does not amuse; are these whistles, which are addressed not to a work but to an idea; not to a man and a tendency, but to a whole order of things, the voice of this great Paris which has conceived, engendered, succeeded and adopted so many magnificences? I learn just now that the costumes of Tannhäuser are going to be put at the service of Robert [Robert the Devil by Meyerbeer] it is well the closing of this derisory tragedy, and long live Israel! One of his children may be put in the concierge's office [the banker Mirès], but there are always enough to avenge him and triumph. Long live bullion art, long live paid enthusiasm, advertising successes, and slamming convictions, long live concessions and perjury, long live debasement and glory, long live music and the guinguette, long live drama and girls, long live carnival and shame. And don't think that I am unaware of Meyerbeer's immense talent, which borders on genius, but where has he led us with schemes unworthy of him, this Louis-Philippe of art? To the servitude of the artist, and under which lord? Under this public whose constant imbecility takes all the forms like Proteus and all the nuances like the chameleon. It is a beautiful spectacle that Paris has just given to the world, that of the laughter and the insult pr